The Gift
by ameliapemerson
Summary: A Mary and Matthew World War I love story. A what if based in part on the plot of The Ticket.
1. Chapter 1

XX

Mother had warned him, Matthew reminded himself as his nose curled in disgust.

"If you want to work at any type of hospital you'll have to get used to the stench of rotting flesh." Isobel had meant to be brutal with her only child.

He had known. Thought he was prepared. He had told her what he wanted to do. What he was determined to do.

And then, in her own inimitable way, Isobel Turnbull Crawley had tried her best to shock him out of it. She described in detail the types of injuries she treated in South Africa in 1900. Enteric fever with its severe abdominal pains, diarrhea, vomiting and rose-colored skin rashes. Or enteritis. Blackwater fever and other forms of malaria. Pneumonia. Influenza. She knew of at least four fellow nurses who had died while serving alongside her at Hillside camp, Bulawayo.

"Frances died almost immediately." Isobel's tone was hard. "Conditions were barbaric. Soldiers without water or proper medicines. Locals treated even worse. Ten to twelve sick or dying men dumped from ox wagons with no orderlies to help. We'd be obliged to take off some of our own clothing to make pillows for the sick men. Sister Marianne would then go outside under the blazing sun to cook."

She turned to her son who sat quiet, angrily thrumming his fingers on the mahogany table. Matthew's eyelids had narrowed and his eyeballs turned away from her. He had set his jaw in that stubborn, mulish fashion she had known since his boyhood.

"If you think this war is any better, think again. Just because it's closer to home doesn't mean conditions will be favorable. Doctors never get proper training or enough equipment. Nurses will be overworked. Conditions miserable. This fighting…" And she crumpled the newspapers that printed the casualty lists loudly so as to capture her son's attention. "Is like no other. They're not telling the whole truth you can be certain. And given your own situation…"

At that Matthew cut her off. "I know what you're trying to do." He had said, spitting out the words sarcastically. "But it won't work. My mind's made up. I have to do something."

What he had not told her was that just yesterday he had received a white feather while walking in the town. He had felt a jostling and a pull on his coat followed by the sound of giggling and retreating feet.

Some local girl knocking into him he expected. He walked on and thought nothing of it until he arrived at the pub where he met up with Samuel Lewis his friend from Cambridge who had gone home during the long vac like he had. They were about to start Michaelmas term and Sam came to Manchester to help Matthew pack up his books for the train trip back to Caius College.

Matthew was older, he had by necessity taken longer to finish his studies than the others. But Sam was a good bloke. A real friend.

Matthew knew where Sam would sit at the Red Lion. He always liked the window seat so he could "keep an eye on the scenery" as he called watching the local girls walk by. Matthew felt for the seat back and sat down, placing the cane carefully next to the table. "Did you order my usual?" He asked, his hand on the table searching for the pint of ale.

Sam said nothing.

Matthew gripped the glass and took a long pull. "What is it?" He felt a sharp tug on his coat pocket.

Startled, Matthew asked again. "What's going on?"

He heard Sam give a long, heavy sigh. Then he said, "You had a white feather in your pocket, old man. I expect someone was trying to shame you. It's been going on for months. Since the war started."

His friend paused, trying to be sympathetic Sam added, "She couldn't have had any idea." He assumed it was a young woman. It usually was. Mrs. Humphrey Ward had assembled it seemed an army of her own in silk pastels and corsets to fan out across England to parties and charity gatherings embarrassing young men with the open presentation of the feather and the sarcastic remark, "here's a gift for a brave soldier."

Matthew's shoulders slumped. He knew about it of course. Young women encouraged by organizations like the Order of the White Feather to humiliate young men not in khaki to join up and go to France.

His mouth pursed in frustration. There really was nothing he could do.

He didn't even know it had happened. He was completely and utterly useless.

Sam then threw him for a loop by saying, "See here. I won't be returning to Cambridge with you."

Matthew's gaze turned blankly towards his friend. His tone was utterly flabbergasted. "What?"

"Joined up don't you know." Sam confessed. "Well Pater was in the last show and wanted me to join his regiment. Everyone knows conscription is going to have to start with the war going on longer than expected. So I wanted to get in before. Bad form to have to wait to be drafted and all. Bit too much for the old man."

"Of course." Matthew's hand covered his face. He was miserable. Good thing his father was long dead. Would he have felt the same when it was clear Matthew's blindness would keep him out of any war? Would he have been relieved? Or just a bit disgraced?

"When do you leave?" He finally asked.

"I catch the train to the Staff College in Surrey Thursday next. Just in time to get back and pack up the old kit bag." But then his voice faultered and Sam's bluster gave out. He really had no choice from his authoritarian father. He'd never be allowed to embarrass the family name.

"I see." Matthew's monotone answer. He then got up in haste, shoving his chair back. He didn't want to stay any longer. Hear any more stories about training to fight. Shipping out. Going to the lines in France.

None of which he had any chance of experiencing.

"Won't keep you then." He stuck out his hand for Sam to take. "Good luck." The two friends shook hands.

"Same to you."

Matthew huffed in disgust, "I won't need it. I'm not going anywhere." He left the pub grabbing his cane and feeling for any obstacles in his way between the chair and the door.

Same left him alone. He knew Matthew always wanted to find his own way without anyone's help.

Matthew walked with a fierce, independent step back home seething in self-hatred. The girl had been right. He deserved that white feather. He wasn't a Conscie or a coward. He had a legitimate reason to be excused from military service. But he was emasculated. He was unable to fight.

He was blind. By a freakish benign tumour since the age of 13 he had lost his vision as it pressed on his optic nerve.

Inoperable.

He'd live.

But not be a functioning member of society.

His mother had rejoiced, having just lost her husband the previous year.

Matthew had been inconsolable after the verdict from the medical specialist in Harley Street. His future plans to take the bar at an abrupt end. No life of his own. No one would want him. His father's death had hit him hard. But he had recovered. Had become the man of the family. And now all that was in jeopardy. They'd have to live off of the small inheritance his father had left Isobel.

He'd be nothing but a burden to her. To everyone.

The intolerableness of living like that sped his drive to finish his education. With the help of the Incorporated National Lending Library for the Blind he was able to read the majority of the required texts to finish an English Literature degree. He had learned Braille quickly, his tutors impressed with his skill. By 18 he had won a scholarship to Gonville & Caius and with the help of the Library, friends who would read to him books that were not available in Braille, and the hiring of a typist to type his papers while he dictated the contents he managed to make his way into academia.

But by 25 he was still there. He had finished his undergraduate degree, but had stayed on for wont of anything else to do to complete a Masters in English. He was slowed down by the time it took him to read and absorb the material and finish the requisite papers and exams. He knew he was most probably there as a charity anymore. He found it completely ironic that in researching a history of his own college he discovered that the founder, one John Caius, had demanded that the college admit no scholar who was "deformed, dumb, blind, lame, maimed, mutilated, or a Welshman."

At least he wasn't Welsh, Matthew had bitterly muttered to himself upon that discovery.

When the war started in August 1914 most of the college had joined up. He was left with the no-hopers.

Completely at sea as to what to do he plodded on. Hoping at the very least to eke out a living as a tutor to snotty nosed toffs whose parents paid him to teach their brats Latin and the works of Shakespeare.

But that just wasn't good enough anymore.

The talk with Sam, the white feather, his own disgust. He had to do something.

Finishing the walk back to the house he shared with his mother, Matthew's mind was made up. He couldn't just pretend the world was the same. That he could just muddle along and do nothing.

He made some calls and by the time he had researched what he intended to pursue, his mind was fully engaged and made up.

That's when his mother tried to persuade him with gruesome stories of the Boer War that he would be well advised to stay with his academic pursuits.

Matthew listened in sullen silence to his mother's lengthy descriptions of disease and death. And then lashed out, "Mother you can't keep me clinging to your apron strings any longer. I'm my own man. I can do what I want."

And Isobel knew the truth of that. "Very well. You'll find out for yourself soon enough." Her clipped tone belied her anxiety.

"You have it all wrong as well." Matthew's jaw clenched again. "Those types of conditions are at the aide stations and London General. I won't be dealing with front line wounds. This place is for rehabilitation."

Isobel was silent.

"At least say you're proud that I'm trying to find my own way in this war." His thrumming got louder against the table. "I just can't sit around any longer."

"How do you know this place will even take you?" Isobel fingered the brochure from St. Dunstan's Hostel for Blinded Soldiers and Sailors. "How did you find out about it?"

"I got talking to a chap in the park the other day. Said his son was there after a Boche tear gas attack at Neuve Chapelle. I telephoned the matron and asked her to send you that information. She said that while it would be unusual, I'd be given a chance." Matthew sat up straighter in the chair. "She sounded ragged and run off her feet. As if they could use all the help they could get. Even the help of a useless blind man."

The caustic self-loathing epithet tripped off Matthew's tongue far too easily his mother realised. When had he become so cynical? She only remembered her bright boy, always bringing home classics prizes from school. His blue eyes shining as he ran into his father's surgery to bring him the good news.

And then the worst had happened. No…she corrected herself not the worst. Matthew's blindness on the heels of her husband's death had tested Isobel's mettle. But they had made it through. He was alive. He was healthy. But his mind had grown dark. The scathing self-hatred had begun. She had hoped the scholarship to Caius would ease his troubled soul, but it had been but a distraction. And a constant reminder that he could not truly pursue any career of his choice.

The war had exacerbated his sense of helplessness. Friends joining up. The constant talk of war and doing your duty for King and Country.

His moods had grown even more dark and sullen. He kept up his studies because there was nothing else to do.

Isobel sensed his growing discontent with his life. And he was right. He was his own man. He would have to make his own way. Even if her heart broke at the thought of the stresses he'd endure alone in London.

"What would matron want you to do?"

"I'd probably train as some kind of orderly." Matthew put his hand out, palm facing out as a means of stopping his mother. "And I know you think it will be too much."

She did. But said nothing.

Matthew suddenly grinned, his sightless eyes piercing blue, sparkled for once. "I'll just have to prove you wrong."

Isobel knew defeat when it faced her. "See you do just that." She stood up to give her son an embrace. "I'll go and pack your things."

"Thank you, Mother." Matthew's arms enfolded around her. "I'll telephone the Master of Caius to tell him I won't be returning."

She stopped in the doorway. "Oh I almost forgot. We received an invitation to lunch from the Grantham's."

Matthew's eyebrows rose. "Really? What do they want with us poorer relations." He was always mocking their distant connections to the aristocratic Crawleys.

"Cora, Lady Grantham, is hosting some kind of charity event for their local hospital in Downton Village. She would like our presence for the luncheon on Saturday the 9th of October." She checked the card left on the fireplace mantle.

"But that's just a week after I start at St. Dunstan's." Matthew protested. "I'll barely get there before I have to leave."

"I know. Can't be helped." Isobel replaced the card back on the mantle. "I would like you to accompany me. We are family after all."

"When they deign to remember our existence at all. The last time we even heard from them was after Father died and they send a condolence card." Matthew snorted derisively. "You do see that it's just a lunch. Never have the middle class relations in for dinner." He made a sarcastic tsk tsk sound with his lips. "And this is supposed to be a war to bring us all together."

"Don't go on like that when we arrive at the Abbey. It is what they expect you know. That we won't know how to behave. So if you don't mind I would rather not confirm their expectations."

Matthew rolled his eyes, a habit from when he could see. "I have to be myself."

"Yes well try to control the worst of your contempt." Isobel replied coolly. "It is for charity."

Matthew nodded his head in agreement.

"The three daughters will be there." Isobel added. "Maybe you'll be able to acquaint yourself of them."

Matthew's retort stung hard, "I doubt I'll be on Lord Grantham's list of eligible suitors. They'll hardly be pushing one of them at me." He stood up and reached for his cane, "Come and meet the blind relation?"

He sat back down and stared out the window, a fuzzy prism of light and shade greeting his eyes. No one would ever want their daughter to marry him.

XX

After a week of hard work and little sleep Matthew arrived back in Manchester to accompany his mother to Downton Abbey.

St. Dunstan's challenged his every sense. Even though the soldiers were released from hospital many still had festering eye wounds that needed treatment. Blowfly maggots were used to debride deep wounds. And some of the soldiers would have to be sent back to London General for more treatments. Smells of disinfectants and alcohol were common as was sodium hypochlorate and boric acid. The smells threatened to overwhelm him. Especially along side the noises. Soldiers screaming or shouting or laughing while playing some of the games the doctors encouraged to regain their strength. Nurses bustled down the halls, he felt jostled and disoriented as sometimes his cane got in their way.

But he was determined to help. He learned how to make beds with hospital corners. To throw the soiled sheets into the laundry chute.

Matthew read Dickens and Carroll to the soldiers who asked. He admitted to one he could not read the letter the soldier held out from his sweetheart. When asked why, Matthew admitted he was blind.

"Blind yourself?" The Scotsman had said, "talk about the blind leading the blind. How did you cop it?"

"I… I wasn't wounded." Matthew hated this part. "I've been blind since the age of 13."

"Oh." The fusilier pulled his letter back to his chest. "No use in talking to you about the show then is it?" And he turned away.

Matthew sighed and got on with taking off the sheets from the next bed. Was he ever to find his place in the world?

At least he felt he was finally doing something useful for the war effort. He had to wear the hospital uniform of a blue single breasted jacked with white lining, blue trousers, white shirt, and red tie to show that he was not a shirker or a conscientious objector but an invalid.

Not wounded exactly. And not a real soldier.

The flannelette itched and was too big for him. It had no pockets and he generally hated it.

But at least it kept away the White Feather girls.

Once in Manchester he did change back into his favorite linen suit. He'd wear it to Downton that afternoon for the charity luncheon on the grounds of the Abbey.

His mother knew better than to help him out the door or to the waiting taxi that would take them to the train station. A car would meet them there curtesy of Lord Grantham.

It was a pleasant train ride. The crisp October air filled his lungs. Matthew wanted to make the most of a trip to the countryside and take a long walk to be alone with his thoughts after so much noise in the city. He had learned not to trip and fall as he left the gravel walks and ventured off the beaten path. But he seldom walked too far and after a time of solitude he found his way back.

This visit, however, would have no such time alone. He could hear the sounds of chatting women and children playing as soon as the chauffeur opened the door of the Rolls Royce.

"I don't need help, thank you." He probably said far too petulantly to the driver who had put a hand on his shoulder.

Matthew stepped gingerly down the step and onto the gravel drive. He held out his hand to help his mother. She reached out and gripped it.

"I believe we're expected over there." Isobel espied some of the distant relations under a tent, seated on some of the outdoor furniture formerly used for summer garden parties but now put to use for this charitable war fund raiser. A small violin ensemble played in the distance.

"Hardly know there's a war on…" Matthew chided sardonically. "How frightful of it to ruin such a lovely day."

"Behave yourself." Isobel countered. "I know for a fact Robert's nephew or second cousin or something…" She faultered on the family connection, "is serving in France. He's heir to Downton and engaged to the eldest daughter."

That sobered Matthew. His work at St. Dunstan's had begun to include talking to the parents of wounded soldiers about what they could expect after the loved one's injuries healed.

As they approached the family, Matthew could hear muttered undertones of protest. "Mama do I have to sit with him. He's blind. Would I have to help him with his knife and fork?" A slow titter of nervous laughter followed.

"Mary." He could her an older woman scold back, "he's our guest."

"What would Patrick say?" Mary tried to wheedle out of it again. "We are engaged and sitting with another man just isn't done."

"Since when do you even remember you're engaged. You're forever saying no one else knows about it outside the family."

The woman had to be Lady Grantham, Matthew inferred. And the other voice the put upon eldest daughter Lady Mary Crawley.

"Very well." He could hear the huff of resignation in her aggrieved tone. "I'll do it as a patriotic act of charity. But that is all."

Another voice entered the conversation. "You just want to go over and meet Lt. Commander Foyle who looks so dashing in that Royal Navy uniform."

"Don't be vulgar."

That haughty tone again struck Matthew's ears. He stiffened with indignation. This would be the family he'd be stuck with in conversation the whole of the afternoon?

He turned to his mother. "I believe I can assure you Mother that Lady Mary Crawley and I will never be friends."

And at that very moment Mary approached. "Hello, I do hope I'm not interrupting."

Isobel was placing Matthew's hand on the edge of a chair so that it would be easier for him to take a seat.

He jumped back up at Mary's voice. He did not want to appear at all a helpless invalid. This snobbish and selfish woman would not be allowed to play the martyr at his expense.

But then her scent of freesia, roses, and orchids caught his nostrils. A drowsy, perfect sensation that worked on his nerves. He was suddenly alive as never before.

Matthew quickly doffed his hat. He'd show her he was a true gentleman. Then he reached out his hand in greeting.

She clasped it gently with her gloved hand. A frisson of electricity sprung unwanted through her body.

Mary looked again at the young man before her. My goodness she thought. He was handsome, to be sure. His blindness did not detract from his good looks. His blonde hair was well groomed. His suit perfect for the occasion. His eyes were mesmerizing despite the blank stare that greeted her.

It both unnerved and excited her.

Mary made every effort to shrug off those unbidden thoughts.

"Would you like some tea?" She asked perfunctorily instead. Attempting a diplomatic tone she heard her father employ with members of the middle classes.

He released her hand.

Matthew swallowed hard. His mouth went slack. Never in the course of his life since he went blind did he ache so much to see again. To see this woman. To match scent to voice. Touch to sight. As if sight would somehow explain the dichotomy of her earlier dismissive way of behaving towards him and the overpowering sensation of beauty he felt from inside her.

Who was this Lady Mary Crawley after all?

XX

 _Ok…so here it is…me writing something new. It is going to be a kind of mix of Downton Abbey and The Ticket. If you've seen that movie you'll know it's a deep meditation on temptation. A blind man regains sight and loses his soul. I'm going to use WWI as a backdrop instead and see how Matthew deals with the sudden answer to an unasked prayer. I'm not exactly sure if people want to read this… please tell me so. I really want to read your reviews and opinions on whether I should continue this. I've come to end of most of my other stories and this idea intrigues me._

 _Rated M for war and language and sexual relations to come._


	2. Chapter 2

The youngest sister…Matthew tried to remember the name his mother had told him. Sybil. She was talking with friends about who had joined up and who was accompanying whom to London to see them off at the train station after tea at Gunther's. Growing frustrated with once again being reminded that he was going nowhere, Matthew decided to take a walk.

Grumbling under his breath that Lady Mary and her sisters made the war sound such a lark. Just like a weekend in the country and then to town. Tea first, death later. Priorities don't you know.

So English. So very much the reasons they found themselves neck deep in the mud of France. Loyalty. Duty. King and country. Matthew could caustically criticize those charming but outmoded principles that got people killed every day and at the very same time feel the pull to do his part. Not for excitement. Or fear of being called a coward or worse. But to rid himself of notion that he was useless. Even at the hospital he was sized up and found wanting.

Even among the detritus of this war he was deemed less.

He tried not to wallow in such self-indulgent pity. It wasn't the time for it. And despite the pervading sense of sadness that existed at St. Dunstan's he felt he was doing good work. The doctors, nurses, and therapists operated under principle of returning the soldiers to a functioning life.

Whether society would accept them back or not was not talked about. No reason to depress the rehabilitees.

Matthew knew the answer though. He heard it at this garden party. Mary's whinging about having to take care of the blind man. The dismissal of him as a person with feelings. They talked about him in the third person as if he wasn't there.

And the strangest thing to Matthew was that he was to accommodate them by putting the family at ease by not being insulted by any of their behaviours. As if just being allowed in their presence was reward enough for him.

There was no point in taking offense.

So when the introductions were over and he was left on his own, Matthew struck out for himself. He heard the gravel under his feet so he knew he was on a well-trodden lane. His cane out in front to feel out obstructions Matthew walked on. He believed it was a footpath around the house rather than a drive for cars.

The crunch of his feet, warblers and chaffinches in the trees the only accompanying sounds.

His cane was stopped by an impediment. Matthew reached his hand out and felt some kind of masonry. A roughhewn surface meant it was a wall of some kind. Probably a low garden divider.

It was a quiet spot.

Matthew sat down.

The chatter of the crowd gave way to silence. Matthew hadn't realized how much the long days at St. Dunstan's had taken out of him. He had been run off his feet. He felt down the wall a bit and realized there was a large upright stone projection. He leaned his back against it and fell asleep.

The next thing he knew he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

"Hmmm…" Matthew blinked. He rubbed his eyes. All habits from when he could see. He opened them, seeing only the usual opaque hues of light and shade.

"There you are." Mary's voice was exultant. "You've had us looking everywhere."

"Me?" Matthew's face scrunched in confusion. "Why?"

She explained as if he was a child. "You wander away without telling anyone. Your mother was ready to leave and you were nowhere to be found. Papa thought you must be lost so a search party was organized."

Trying to ignore the condescending tone, Matthew's eyebrow went up. "And you went to look for me?" He sounded incredulous.

"No." Mary admitted. "I was returning to the house. But I did find you."

"I hate to mar your moment of triumph," Matthew rejoined evenly, "but I wasn't lost. I did fall asleep for which I apologize."

"How can you possibly know where you are?" Mary demanded. "You've never even been to Downton before."

"Don't you know?" Matthew scoffed. "Blind people are clairvoyant. I sensed my way here." And he put his arms out and wriggled his fingers around in the air like a music hall conjurer.

"You don't have to be rude." Mary bit back.

"And you don't have to assume I can't find my way down a simple gravel path." Matthew put his hands down. He swiveled his legs over the edge of the wall into a sitting position.

Mary sighed. "I suppose you're right." This man put her on edge. She wasn't used to dealing with someone, a man especially, whom she couldn't dazzle with her visual charms.

Matthew took his handkerchief out of his pocket. Spread it out and placed it beside him on the stone wall.

"Sit?" He offered.

"I really shouldn't be alone…" Mary looked around to see if anyone followed her.

"Even with a harmless blind man?" Matthew's sarcasm apparent again.

"Are you always so prickly?"

"Are you always so haughty?"

Mary exhaled in frustration.

Matthew felt the swish of air against his skin as she sat down. The feel of her linen gown as it tickled his hand. The whiff of her scent that had knocked him for a loop earlier.

"So how do you do it then?" Mary asked in a more tactful voice.

"You have to trust your other senses."

"What do you mean?"

"Close your eyes." Matthew requested. He waited a few seconds.

"Are they closed?" He inquired skeptically. "I can't tell you know."

"They're closed." Mary gave a hint of a laugh.

"Take your hands and feel my face."

She hesitated.

"Think of it as an act of charity. Humour me." His mouth curved slightly at the edge. "I won't bite."

Mary heaved a self-conscious outbreath and put out her hands.

"You'll have to take your gloves off." Matthew could feel the cloth against his skin.

He could hear her tug at the gloves. Then her gentle fingertips probed his cheeks. His nose. His eyes. His brow.

She avoided his mouth.

Soft. Warm on his skin. He hadn't realized he was cold sitting so long in one place.

He felt his face flame. Betrayed by his own body, he winced that now she'd know how her touch made him shiver. Matthew hardly ever let his mind wander to the soft touch of a woman's hand. Such enjoyments were never to be his. He had locked away all thoughts of love or matrimony.

It hurt too much.

Mary pulled away, seemingly unaware however of the effect she had on the man beside her.

"Do mine." She demanded excitedly. "My eyes are closed."

Matthew chuckled. "You don't have to do that."

"Just go ahead." Her voice entreated in that plummy voice that was meant to keep the distance between them.

"Yes ma'am." He muttered acerbically under his breath. But his touch was tender. It was true that his sense of touch had become more acute after he lost his vision. It became his eyesight. Learning how to distinguish objects through touch. He felt the world around him. And the more he trusted it the more independent he became.

He couldn't keep his hands from shaking when he touched Mary's face. Her high cheekbones. Slim neck. He imagined her skin alabaster white. He pushed a few strands of her hair behind her left ear.

Matthew dared to rub his thumb delicately against her lips. He felt a wisp of hot breath against his skin.

Crossing an unspoken boundary.

She instinctually pulled away.

The moment lost.

"Sorry." Matthew retreated back with embarrassment. "That was presumptuous." Was she repulsed by his touch?

Mary stood up. "I'll take you back." Her tone clipped and more distant than ever. "Do you need me to guide you?"

"No." He responded taciturnly. "I can find my own way."

But she walked ahead of him anyway down the gravel path and said upon returning to the large group on the lawn, "Here he is" as if he was a lost puppy. As if he meant nothing more than act of kindness by a lady bountiful.

"Hallelujah…" Matthew could hear the earl of Grantham say. "We were about to ring the police."

Matthew started to say again he was not lost when another voice approached, "Maybe Cousin Matthew would come again? We could visit some of the village's points of historic interest. There's some lovely medieval architecture around here. Mary and I might show you a few of the nearer ones."

"That's very kind." Matthew responded, unsure of the speaker's identity.

"Oh Edith." Mary's voice dripped with disdain, "He'd hardly get any enjoyment out of that given his affliction."

Matthew flinched at her words.

"And besides I'm too busy living a life. Patrick will be back on leave soon and he's promised me a trip to see _Chu Chin Chow_."

A male voice interrupted. "I've got tickets for Saturday, Lady Mary. I'm escorting my mother but I'm sure she wouldn't mind the company."

"Lord Gillingham," Mary's voice turned honied. "I'd love that. I ache to hear my heels clicking the cobblestones of London. It's been so long what with the season being curtailed."

Oh yes, Matthew thought, back again to this inconvenient war getting in the way of all your social engagements.

He heard Lady Grantham call the other sister away presumably on some kind of pretense to get her away from the distant cousin to whom it might be a bad idea to be around too long.

Feeling more than ever an unwanted appendage at this so-called family gathering Matthew wanted to leave. But he could not go until his mother agreed. He twisted around on his heels and continued to walk away, feeling with his cane for the chairs that had been placed along the perimeter.

"Matthew." He heard Isobel call. "Over here."

"We need to catch the train back to Manchester." He said, pulling out his braille pocket watch. "I want to return to London this evening."

"What's happened?" She inquired of her son. "Where did you go? I'm not sure we should leave without telling anyone."

"Doesn't matter Mother." Matthew set his jaw in a frown. "I think they're done with the poor relations for now. We've done our part and bought the charity tickets and now I think we've been dismissed. We can walk to the train station."

As Matthew walked away Isobel took the time to tell Cora they were leaving. Cora summoned the chauffeur to meet them out front.

Matthew reluctantly got inside the to take them back to the station.

"I don't want any charity from them." He proclaimed upon taking his seat. "I mean the thing is, just for a moment, I thought…." Matthew pushed his hair over his head and put on his hat. "Never mind what I thought. I was wrong."

"I had hoped you would make some friends." Isobel settled on the seat next to her son.

"You're clearly barking up the wrong tree and will be in for a big disappointment." He spat out.  
"I wouldn't mind if I never saw any of them again."

Isobel did not respond. Clearly something happened he did not want to disclose. She let him vent.

Matthew was silent all the way back to Manchester.

At the station he had to switch trains to London. Isobel put her hands on his shoulders so he could find her face and cheek. He kissed her good-bye.

"Do you have everything you need?" She asked. "Don't let them work you too hard."

"I'm fine, Mother." He tried to reassure her though it sounded hollow even to his own ears. "I just need to get back to work."

XX

Matthew sank down on the first-class passenger seat. He was worn out by the day's events. It was always a bit of an act he played in front of others. This time however was the unexpected frisson he felt around Mary.

Haughty Mary.

Patronizing.

Snobbish.

He didn't know where he was around her. One minute they were getting along. The next she was dismissing him like a child.

He liked their sparring. She didn't give in like so many others did. At times he believed she forgot he was blind.

He didn't understand her at all.

She was so very beautiful. One didn't have to see to realize that. He had taken a liberty with the touch of her lips. But for reasons he could even justify to himself he believed at the time she had liked it. The hot breath on his skin as she slowly exhaled.

Their bodies froze just for a split second. Time seemed to stop. He had learned to trust his senses and he believed that intimate moment was shared between the two of them.

But whether Mary truly felt repulsed by his impudence or she refused to acknowledge any feelings for a defective man who'd be nothing but a burden to her he had no idea.

And frankly he didn't want a second chance to find out. For in the end nothing would come of it.

Mary would want nothing to do with him.

He had only one other experience with which to base this assumption. But it was so painful he lumped it in together. When he was at college he had been invited to a rather bohemian party with some of his roommates who thought he needed to get out of the library and into life.

The party had been loud. Gramophones playing the latest music hall hits. People dancing. He felt the floorboards move. He sat down with a drink but really didn't mix at all. A young woman, Kate Laidlaw, sat down beside him and asked why he didn't dance. He had said he didn't feel much up to it. She had a pretty Scots lilt. They ended up chatting a long time. Kate was at Newnham College reading Classics and he impressed her with a recitation from the Iliad in Greek. Over the course of the evening they grew closer. A few drinks more and she was lying beside him near a fireplace. She had lain her arm across his chest. He dared to kiss her cheek. Very soon later they were madly kissing.

Matthew hadn't even remembered he had not divulged he was blind. The heady feelings of lust had taken over his brain.

The moment all came to ruin when her friend popped through the door to tell Kate to come back to the real party.

Matthew had been disoriented and fell down upon trying to help her up. He had no idea if she had reached out with her arms so instead he flailed around trying to stand.

Her friend got restless, saying cruelly "Come on Kate. Let Blind Billy there find his own way back. He can't dance anyway. Fred only brought him out of charity."

Matthew heard her stamp an angry foot as she waited for Kate.

Kate had walked away from Matthew without another word. They slammed the door behind them. He was so humiliated he crept out the back of the house and sat down on the stoop until his erstwhile friend finally showed up to help him back to their rooms at Caius.

He never told anyone about it. But he never allowed himself to be alone with a woman again. And this experience with Mary showed him why. He was treated as a person without feelings. And his own inexperience gave him nothing to fall back on except painful mortification.

Matthew rubbed his chin as he considered the events of the afternoon. He would have bet anything that he was not wrong about Mary's feelings. He'd most probably never find out as right how he was better off on his own.

At least that's what he told himself.

Just then the compartment door opened. A voice interrupting his thoughts, "Excuse me. Is this seat taken?"

"No." Matthew sat up straighter and removed his cane from the empty seat beside him. He hoped it would not result in another white feather incident as he was out of his hospital blues.

"Thank you. I just barely made it and my father's waiting for me at St. Pancras."

She had such a friendly voice.

"Matthew Crawley." He tipped his hat and reached out his hand.

"Lavinia Swire. How do you do?" She took his hand and shook it. "Where are you headed?"

Matthew decided to be up front. "St. Dunstan's Hostel for Blind Soldiers and Sailors. I work there."

"How interesting. Were you wounded in the war?"

"No. I've been blind since 13 from a pituitary tumor that impinges on my optic nerve." Matthew had never really told immediate acquaintances the origins of his blindness. "I'm unable to join up."

The bitterness must have shown in his answer as she replied, "It's very good though that you've found such a useful way to serve. I wish I had some kind of skill to lend to the war effort. I find just going to these charity functions tedious indeed."

Matthew gave her a broad smile. No one had ever couched a response like that before. That he was actually of some benefit. "I'm sure you make them feel quite happy before being sent to the front lines."

"Even so it's not what I'd like to do. But my father is ill and I can't leave him alone to become an ambulance driver." Lavinia rejoined. "I know of some girls who are doing just that."

"I'm sure you're doing the best you can." Matthew politely replied. Another thing he'd never do. Drive automobiles or ambulances.

"Would you take tea with me and my father tomorrow?" Lavinia asked. "I could give you our address. I'm sure he'd like to meet you."

Matthew was startled. "Of…Of course…" He stammered. "I'd love to."

But all the way back to London he fidgeted with his cane, twirling it around in his hand. What was he doing? This could only lead to tears.

No one wanted him except out of charity.

XX

Mary restlessly walked around the gardens at the back of Downton. The party had finally come to a close and everyone had left. The servants were clearing away the tables and pulling down the tents.

Sybil and Edith had gone inside with their mother to change for dinner.

She was alone with her thoughts. And it was unsettling.

That man had no right to take such liberties with her. She should have slapped him possibly. Certainly have told him he was no gentleman. But then what would you expect from a blind man?

Her sharpened wit would have wounded him deeply.

And he would have deserved it. Had she been insulted by his action.

But was she?

Her emotions were all in a twist. He was such an enigma. Unlike any young man she had ever encountered before. She couldn't flit her eyes and smile and win him over. When he had offered to show her how he used touch to sense his surroundings she thought she'd found a way to begin to understand him.

Her exploration of what she already knew to be his handsome face with just her fingertips was exhilarating. Daring and outside proscribed accepted behaviour. No chaperone in sight. But when his blue eyes, that had been dull and unexpressive, flashed to life and dazzled her with an intense stare of cerulean blue when he suggested the examination, she could not say no.

And then caught in the moment, she returned the favour and asked him to do the same to her.

His touch was gentle yet searching. Penetrating her defenses without even knowing it. He expertly guided his fingertips around her facial features. She had cheated a bit and opened her eyes knowing he'd never know. His face was at first serious and then it softened. His mouth fell open, his fingers trembled as he approached her lips.

And then he touched them. And she felt the world fall at her feet. For just that moment, they were the only two people on earth.

So startled by the whirlwind of emotions that swelled in her body, she withdrew from him. He had been as frightened as she, Mary noticed.

Neither knew what to do.

So they fell back on convention.

And she returned to her old self. This was impossible. She was wrong. She just felt sorry for him was all. And it got confused into something else.

Mary made a confident turn back to the house. As soon as she could get to London things would be better. Lt. Commander Foyle had promised a trip to the theater. Patrick would understand. And besides his mother was attending as well. All proper and above board.

Back to what she knew. That was the answer to get Matthew Crawley out of her brain for good.

XX

 _It's taking me a while to put this story in any kind of chronology in my head. It's going to get complicated very quickly for Mary and Matthew with some twists and turns along the way. I hope you like the story and review it. It's my favorite thing in the world._


	3. Chapter 3

XX

"Get them away!" The stricken voice pleaded with the nurse. "Away I said! I changed my mind!" Getting more agitated the soldier's hand waved violently in the air. "I don't want them to see me like this!" He scraped at his eyes until they bled which seeped through the bandages he threatened to tear off. An orderly rushed over to stop him.

The nurse expertly guided the wife and small children away from the cot. "This way." Her voice steady but firm, they followed. She moved them back into the room where Matthew sat awaiting the results of the family encounter. He had been afraid this would happen. Cpl. Ashton had insisted he was ready to meet his wife and children even though the festering blisters from the gas attack still made his eyes protrude and had to be protected with layers of bandages. He had tried to dissuade the man as neither soldier nor family was truly ready to begin reconciling what had been husband and father to the blind, shell shocked man he had become.

Sometimes they had to go through the process before it truly sunk in.

He said in his most diplomatic, calming voice. "I'm so sorry. But as I tried to warn you Corporal Ashton is still very much in the initial stages of recovery. It will take some time…" Sometimes Matthew was allowed to be part of the process of recovery given his unique position at St. Dunstan's it was thought he could relate better than a sighted therapist.

"Will he always be like that?" Sarah Ashton interrupted, holding a child with one hand while another pulled on her other and screamed to see his daddy. "All bandaged up and unable to work? I've got mouths to feed. What use is a blind man to me?" And then a sharp intake of breath and a "May God forgive me…"

She was so troubled, so tormented Matthew realized. He could hear it in her voice. She truly loved her husband. But the fear of losing everything had her anguished and out of her mind with worry.

"The doctors at London General have not confirmed he will always be so. But for now he must remain here. The ophthalmologist will return in a fortnight to make further assessment."

The woman struggled to calm her children and listen to Matthew at the same time. "This wretched war. Taken everything hasn't it. I know I'm not to say but tis true."

Matthew's mouth pursed. He knew all too well the truth of what she said. The horrors apparent to him more and more every day. The smell of death, decay, despair all around him. He didn't need to see to feel that. Despite the noble work of the doctors and therapists at St. Dunstan's the knowledge that this war would change the fate of an entire generation placed a pall on all who lived and worked there.

XX

I forbid it." Violet struck her walking stick on the carpet.

"But why?" Sybil implored. "I see men at the hospital every day. Wounded and in need of convalescence at a quiet place just like Downton. We can treat them better here."

"To have strange men prodding and prying around the house, to say nothing of pocketing the spoons. It's out of the question."

"But Granny they'll only be here to rest and recuperate." Mary reasoned. "I know it will be a tremendous disturbance but many county families are doing much the same. We have to be seen to be doing our part."

"But what if they relapse? What then? Amputations in the dining room?" Violet turned to her daughter in law. "I thought you for one would agree with me. In your own home?"

Cora said firmly, "That's just it. It's our home now. Mine and Robert's. We'll make the decision."

"Then I will spend most of my time at the Dower House." Violet grumbled. "I'm too old to change."

Mary steadied her mother's hand before she said anything rasher. "Granny will come around." She said quietly. "Next thing you know she'll be leading the charge."

Cora smiled. "I'm surprised at you being so supportive. You've hardly taken any notice of the war at all."

Mary quipped, "We can't have Sybil take all the glory." But she did so with a heavy heart. She knew she had been selfish. Caring only that the war had disturbed her socializing with friends in London.

She vowed to be better. When Patrick came home on leave next she'd pay more attention. Give support as the posters and fliers demand of the women of England. It really wasn't his fault that neither felt any of the love that should have accompanied their engagement.

It had been expected they marry. And so they would. She would be able to leave the waiting room she had ever found herself in. The cage really. Being told by her father, her social ranking of her obligations.

Whether she loved him or not. Whether she actually preferred the attraction of other men. Like Lt. Commander Foyle who had been so attentive to her when she attended the West End show with his mother.

Or even Matthew Crawley. Why couldn't she get that young man out of her mind? He was nothing to her. A distant relation. Afflicted in a way that would make him nothing but a burden. And yet he seemed so at ease with it. Dismissive. She suspected it was an act. A way to keep out the world's pity. But that made him even more intriguing to her.

No. She must concentrate on Patrick. And on finding something useful to do to in the meantime. She didn't see herself joining the Queen Mary's Army Auxiliary that was being organized or the Land Army. Nursing was one of the few other options open. Sybil had taken the course as a VAD and had returned to work at the village hospital. And now Downton was to open as a convalescent home. She'd pitch in and help out wherever she was needed.

It felt good.

Matthew had seemed so determined in their conversations to show his worth to a society who ignored him. Much like herself, really.

There she went again, lingering her thoughts on the handsome Mr. Crawley. She really had to get on…

XX

"Mr. Crawley we were sad to hear you wanted to leave Gonville and Caius." Assistant Master Russell Hopkins spoke in a dull monotone.

Matthew shifted uncomfortably in the hard-backed chair. "I felt I had to do my duty in the war effort." He knew if he used that tactic he'd not be criticized.

"Of course. Of course…" Hopkins tutted, vaguely waving a hand in the air. "Even so. You can serve in other capacities. We are desperately short of Tutors at the moment." He scratched his brow. "So many young, creative minds gone. We could easily find a position here for you."

Scratching bottom of barrel, are you? Matthew bitterly thought to himself. Well in times such as these you had to promote someone. What with everyone else dead.

He did not say any of that to the Master of Caius.

"It's a very generous offer." He said instead. "And I'm grateful that you consider me capable of assuming a tutorial position." Not a Fellow, Matthew again noted to himself. But still he'd be responsible for teaching and supervising a number of undergraduates.

"Your work reflects a quick mind but one based in intellectual research."

Matthew smiled. "I would like time to consider it. I've just settled at St. Dunstan's and I find the work useful. St. Dunstan's is a good fit for me."

The older gentleman solemnly nodded. "We will respect whatever decision you make."

"When the war is over I hope we can revisit the offer." Matthew stood up and held out his hand. His cane balanced on his arm.

The two men shook.

Matthew put his cane out in front of him and strode out of the room. He knew the building well enough to know how many steps it took from the office to the staircase.

He walked down to where Lavinia was waiting. They were to have luncheon at the Grille Room at the Savoy with her father.

"How did it go?"

Matthew shrugged. "I think he was disappointed. It was a generous overture but I told him I'd consider it only after my work at St. Dunstan's is complete."

"But it shows you have a promising future." Lavinia said, taking his outstretched hand and squeezing it. She linked her arm into his.

Matthew appreciated how when Lavinia joined arms with him she did so not as a crutch or a nursemaid. But as a friend. A support.

And possibly more.

It was so hard to know if he should make any move towards a more permanent relationship. Such an idea, a possibility had never entered his head before.

Would he ever find someone who would take him as he is other than Lavinia? She was kind hearted and sincere. Her father welcomed him into their family without judgement or displeasure.

He had spent many a quiet evening with them of late.

Such could not be said for another family.

Another woman. Mary… a dream she was. That he could ever believe she would think of him as anything but an encumbrance. To be cared for like a child. Or a pet.

No…he had to forget her.

He struck the ground firmly with his cane and walked forward.

"Ready for lunch?" Matthew asked, pushing all thoughts of Mary and his distant Crawley relations from his mind.

"Lead the way." Lavinia answered confidently.

XX

Matthew returned to St. Dunstan's after seeing Lavinia and Reggie Swire into a taxi outside of the Savoy. They hailed him another that took him back to the hostel. He walked upstairs to his room.

Reaching the knob he opened the door. He heard some scratching inside and the springs of the spare bed in the right corner of the room lift. He had been told to expect a roommate as the hostel was bursting with patients and staff. He had been lucky that they found a space for him at all.

"Hello." A quiet voice sounded. "I don't want to surprise you. I was told this would be my room."

The educated, received speech of a fellow academic. Matthew could tell. "It's quite fine. I knew this would happen."

He approached and as usual held out a hand in greeting. "Matthew Crawley."

But he received no handshake in return.

"Joseph Hanson." The vocal response instead.

Matthew swept his cane back and forth on the floor until he reached the chair in the left corner near his own bed. Sitting down, he asked, "What are you doing at St. Dunstan's? Are you a medical student?"

"No. They've hired me as a therapist. Though I was studying medicine in Edinburgh, I'm to help with the athletics and calisthenics. They're doing amazing things in France with fencing in particular and so I offered to train some of the those far along in their rehabilitation."

"I see." Matthew's interest was piqued. "How would you do that? Do you blindfold yourself so you know what they're experiencing?"

Joseph chuckled. "I don't have to do that obviously. I thought the dark glasses would give me away."

Matthew finally understood why his handshake went unresponded. "I am blind myself I'm afraid. I can't see your glasses."

The two men laughed. "What happened to you?" Joseph asked.

When Matthew once again explained his condition, he turned the question back.

"I've been blind since birth." Hanson explained. "The doctors don't have a real explanation but I've managed."

"And you fence?"

"My father was a fencer. Trained for the Olympics. He taught me and then I was in France at the Sorbonne when the war started. I've been asked to teach balance and confidence to help them regain an autonomous life after the war."

"Do you need a sparring partner?" Matthew was fascinated by the idea of learning a new skill. And to train his body rather than sit and be useless when he was not at work.

"Absolutely."

They began that next afternoon. Matthew changed into his white hospital shirt but kept on his own trousers as they were lightweight and better fitting than the hospital blues. They walked down the stairs and around a couple of corridors until Joseph found the room the hostel had designated could be his for the near term. "Here it is." Joseph felt the Braille numbers on each of the doors until he found the one he was looking for.

"I had the chance to work with Georges DuBois," Joseph explained to Matthew as he set out his equipment. Matthew could hear some shuffling in a bag and some metal clanging. "He is the blind master of the foil."

"The foil?" Matthew asked, the word stirring old memories of his father reading about sword fights in The Three Musketeers to him long into the night as a small child. Later he'd read Boy's Own adventure stories about Robin Hood or chivalric knights on long summer day's home from his prep school. When his blindness set in, of course, most of that stopped.

"There are three swords or rapiers used in fencing. The foil, épée, and the sabre. The foil is the lightest of the weapons. In competition it targets the torso alone unlike say the épée in which the entire body could be a target. It's safer for our purposes and concentrates the skill set. Points are scored by the tip touching the torso of your opponent. It's the oldest weapon coming from the days of dueling."

"So how do we start?"

Joseph moved away from Matthew. "M. DuBois taught me to train with great patience and so I will. I was instructed to say to those in charge at St. Dunstan's that teaching fencing is the best means of developing the power and precision of touch, to estimate distance and direction of sound."

Matthew nodded in agreement. "That is quite necessary. I've only been here a few weeks but the soldiers who have come direct from the hospital have never even gotten out of bed. They are quite directionless." He remembered his own paralyzing disorientation upon waking one morning and realizing he saw absolutely nothing at all. He had withdrawn for weeks after the diagnosis, venturing out only to relieve himself, bathe, and eat. And he had none of the other physical and mental wounds these soldiers of the front lines had to endure.

Joseph put on the protective headpiece and swung his foil around so that Matthew could hear the swish of the blade. "I won't be striking you in these initial sessions so you won't need any protective helmet. Plus it's important for you to hear to know where and how to strike."

"How will I know where to stand?" Matthew had a thousand questions. "Where to move?"

"I've had one of the orderlies mark out a pattern in dotted lines according to how Monsieur DuBois taught. Some of the soldiers here are legally blind but can see a bit so the pattern will help them establish the lines of attack. You will have to walk it over and over to count the steps and I'll guide you around the pattern. Sit down along the wall."

Matthew felt his cane strike against a hard surface. He held out his hand and felt the cool oak of a bench. He sat down.

"Take the foil from the bench."

Matthew reached out his hand and felt the cool steel of the pommel. He gripped the sword.

"Walk towards me on this line." Joseph instructed. "listen to my voice and stop when I say 'Halt.'"

Matthew did as told.

"Halt."

"On guard." Joseph said. "Hold the blade in front of your body and place your forearm parallel to the ground. You will want to swing the base of the foil pommel across your forearm so as to strike my shoulder."

Nervously Matthew gripped the foil. "Ready."

"Attack position." He positioned Matthew's arm in an outstretched manner.

"The point of your blade, since you are right handed, should be opposite my right side." Joseph returned to his position. "It is blunted, by the way. So don't worry. This is a teaching foil. You are to try to tip me. To hit with the blunted end."

"Now lunge forward. Try to hit me."

Matthew pitched his blade towards Joseph's voice with as much force as he could.

The two blades hit in midair as Joseph parried Matthew's action.

The sound of the clashing blades reverberated through the confined space of the room.

Matthew gulped and stood back. He gripped the foil harder. "What's next?" His voice eager. He had never been so excited to learn a new skill.

"I'll teach you all the axes and angles you'll need to learn which directions to swing the blade. You must walk around the grid pattern until you know all the number of steps. I'm having the ground marked off by two lines at right angles with steel tape so you can feel it. It will runs down the center of the courtyard. One line is for me, the instructor. The other for you, the student. You'll get to approximate the distance through sound once you become familiar with the dimensions of the marked space."

"Fascinating." Matthew muttered under his breath.

"Shall we begin?" Joseph asked. "Take the first position like I showed you."

XX

Are you on Granny's side Papa?" Mary walked with her father around the estate. "Have we all bullied you into the whole thing?"

Her father pat her hand as it entwined in his own. "No my dear. I'm not dreading it. I will meet it with as much grace as I can muster. I find the prospect daunting is all. I cut ribbons and open my estate to the wounded but I do nothing myself."

"The War Office has not responded to your request?" Mary asked. She knew her father longer to be more active in the North Riding Regiment that he served as honorary colonel.

"I wait word still."

They had made their back across the garden and to the doors leading to the morning room.

Or the Intermediate Recovery Room as designated by the nursing staff. It was full of soldiers now and the smell of carbolic.

"Sybil was on a tear about wanting all the ranks mixed together. That it was unfair the hospital was for officer's only." Mary said.

"She's ever on a crusade about something these days." Robert grumbled as they walked around a partition and into the small library.

Violet was resting next to the smaller of the two library fireplaces.

"I told her that it would just put each rank on edge and it's a lot to ask when people are not at their best." She motioned for Mary to sit down next to her.

"If you will excuse me, Mama" Robert said, bending down to kiss his mother. "I have some letters to write."

When he left the room, Violet turned to Mary. "I don't mean to pry…"

Mary arched a skeptical eyebrow.

Violet continued "well any more than I usually do for the good of the family…"

Mary smiled.

"The new chauffeur…?" She couldn't recall his name.

"Branson?" Mary offered helpfully.

"Yes." Violet continued. "I was ready to go home and Carson brought me out to the car but not before Sybil slipped away around the side of the house. She had been speaking with this Branson. I had an endless series of crushes at her age with some men quite unsuitable to my station and wondered if it was the same with her?"

Mary looked surprised. "I don't think so. Not that she's confided in me."

"War breaks down barriers. Barriers that will be re-erected with the peace. Sybil might very well find herself on the wrong side. She's been out in the world more than most her age. Perhaps we should be more mindful of those with whom she chooses to spend her time."

"I will speak with her." Mary wasn't at all sure her rebellious minded younger sister would listen to anything she said. But it calmed her grandmother's nerves.

She was just about to ring for tea when Cora stepped into the room.

"Mary…" Her mother's face was ashen. "There's been a telegram…"

XX

Matthew lunched with his mother. Full of talk about his fencing lessons.

"The sensory experience is most extraordinary." Matthew exclaimed. "The feel of the blade in your hand. Light and balanced."

Isobel saw her son's hand flex as if it still held the foil.

"And we exercise as well now. With dumb bells in each hand you raise your heels up and do these knee bends to strengthen your legs and toes. It's also to better your equilibrium. There are about five us now regularly training with Joseph. There's talk of a tournament in the spring."

She was glad he was finally happy.

"You received a letter." Isobel finally got a word in edgewise. "It came to the house." She gave a pause. "It's from Lord Grantham."

Matthew's eyebrow raised. "Did you open it?"

"I waited until we could be together."

"Do so now." Matthew steepled his fingers in front of his face which had turned serious with concern. There were only a very few reasons why the Earl of Grantham would have written to such a distant relation.

He heard Isobel break the seal and open the stiff paper. "Dear Cousin Matthew. I wish to inform you that upon the death by drowning of my nephew and heir Lt. Patrick Crawley RN in an action against the enemy in the North Atlantic an investigation was conducted and our lawyers inform me that you are now the heir to the title of the Earl of Grantham and the estate of Downton Abbey. I would like to meet with you in London at the offices of Murray and Murray on the 11th of December."

Isobel, her hand shaking, put down the letter.

Matthew's mouth rounded in disbelief. "He wants to change our lives."

Isobel placed the letter down on the table. "Tragic news for the family. Wasn't the eldest his fiancée?"

"Yes." Matthew responded, deep in thought. "She was." His face paled. "Wretched war. Not even a widow." He remembered the touch of her soft hand against his cheek. Her excitement about attending a musical in London with a handsome Lieutenant Commander who was not Patrick Crawley. Would Mary mourn for her lost sailor?

"So you are now his heir." Isobel wondered what all that would mean for her son. For herself.

His faced turned sour. "I bet that came as a shock to cousin Robert." Matthew said with acerbity. "To find out your heir is not only middle class but a helpless blind man who couldn't find his way back to a garden party."

Isobel took a sip of her tea. "He'll adjust and realize he has a clever and sensibly minded successor."

Matthew snorted softly in derision but did not try to dissuade his mother's loyalty. He reached out and fingered the stationery. "I will respond by telephone to Murray and Murray this afternoon."

XX

"Really Edith." Mary hissed. "I was supposed to be engaged to him. So why are you the one weeping and wailing?"

"You should be ashamed then. If Patrick had been my fiancé…"

"But he wasn't." Mary snapped. "As much as you want everything I have, he wasn't."

"You're cruel and heartless…" Edith rushed out the room.

Mary returned to gazing out the window.

Alone.

The way she liked it. She hated wearing black. Hated mourning for a man she really did not want to marry. Hated the self-awareness that brought. She was heartless. Cruel even. She wasn't half sad enough he was dead.

But she be damned if she ever told Edith she was right.

So she just wanted to be alone. Contemplating the even more depressing thought that soon enough a parade of suitors would show up for dinner on her father or mother's bequest. A duke maybe? Or the distant relation in Canada rumoured to be the next heir on the list. And she'd be forced to marry the man sitting next to her because although Patrick had got himself killed in the war, her life would go forward as if nothing had happened.

She hadn't really loved him anyway. And that made it even more awful. Anyone who was killed in this cruel war should have been loved by someone.

Someone better than she.

XX

"Lord Grantham." Matthew held out his hand. The secretary had shown him to the door of George Murray, head of chambers. Inside Robert sat awaiting with a certain amount of trepidation this meeting with his new heir. He had been rather truculent the time he and his mother had been invited to the garden party. As if he'd rather have been a million miles away.

And they had shown him nothing but kindness, Robert considered. Especially as he had wandered off. Robert had been most put out by that thoughtless demonstration. He could have gotten himself injured and even when discovered, never truly thanked the family for saving him. Was this the kind of pugnacity he'd have to expect from this third cousin once removed? A blind heir? Ungrateful for the honour bestowed after the death of his nephew?

"Cousin Robert please."

Matthew nodded and sat down. He could hear the disdain in Robert's voice even as he attempted diplomacy.

The disappointment. And really, though who could blame him. But at the very least he could put on a good show to put Matthew's own concerns at ease. And not be so open in his disfavour.

Murray began to speak. "We're here to settle the business of confirming your new heir to the titles, lands, and fortunes of the Earl of Grantham upon your own death."

Matthew let all that sink in. He knew the tradition of entail meant that over the course of generations ownership of an estate remained within a particular group so as not to break any part of it up. And so it was here. He'd inherit the whole damned lot. He twisted his cane in his hand.

"Yes…Yes…" Robert muttered. As unfair as it all was, his father had made an unbreakable entail and there was no way to detach Cora's wedding settlement from the estate. Of course it hadn't mattered as much with Mary's engagement to Patrick. His father, James, had been his cousin and original heir to Downton after it was painfully aware that he and Cora would have only daughters.

But this man was a complete stranger. And with an affliction that would normally have left him under the care of family rather than be the head of one.

How would he ever cope?

"This is a mere formality. You won't have any responsibilities towards the estate in the near future." Robert explained as if to buttress his own dubious beliefs in Matthew's abilities. "Indeed there will not even be any kind of financial bestowment upon such time as required by the terms of my will."

Putting me in my place already? Matthew muttered to himself. It wasn't as if he wanted this title in the first place. Or his money.

"I understand." Matthew shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his mind racing to find a way to make him completely independent of any obligation of the Grantham family. "I have a position at Cambridge University waiting for me at the end of the war. I intend to take up a position as Tutor at Gonville and Caius."

"Right." Grantham sounded quite uninspired at the possibility of an academic stipend being his heir's only income and decided to offer some charity. "There will be house made available to you in the village at such time as you might require. Given your …ummmm… condition it could prove useful as you will most probably will remain a bachelor. Your mother could live there as well…."

Did he think him a complete no hoper? Matthew blurted out "I'm engaged to be married, you know. She's the daughter of a well-known London lawyer, Reginald Swire. His brother was the Liberal Party Minister of State for Trade."

His eyes beetled back and forth and his hand suddenly started thrumming madly on the arm of the chair.

Robert looked slightly more impressed at this admission. "Well well…"

Matthew slumped against the seat back, his hand massaging his furrowed brow. It wasn't completely a lie. He had thought about asking Lavinia for her hand in marriage.

And now he'd make haste to do just that.

XX

 _Oh Matthew… we'll see the consequences of that in the next chapters. I hope you like the story enough to keep reading and reviewing. Your words are like sunshine!_

 _For those interested: Blind fencing was a real thing in WWI. See: "Fencing for the Blind" by professor Georges DuBois/ Publications of the Red Cross Institute for the Blind (1918) and "Fencing Tournament for Blind Men in France" by Arthur Kennedy, Scientific American April 1916_


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello! I was asked to give more time stamps for this story-so this part of the story takes place in late December 1916_

XX

"Arm up Matthew." Joseph instructed. "You must move five steps forward prepared to strike."

Matthew grunted in frustration and returned to the starting point. He was still learning the positioning of body and blade. He gripped the foil in his gloved hand.

"You can't let your guard down," Joseph joked. "Even if you have an engagement this evening with your lady love. Don't go all moon eyed on me."

Matthew jibed easily back, "You're just jealous. We need to find you a girl."

Joseph snorted, "That'll be the day. I don't have a family fortune to lure in any potential intended."

Matthew frowned. He knew his friend was only having him on but he did not like thinking that a woman would have him only because of the title and money now to be his by the tragedy of the heir dying in this endless war.

Matthew leaned forward with the sword. "I have you know Lavinia accepted my hand without knowing anything about my meeting with Lord Grantham."

"Then you have certainly found a rare jewel." Joseph conceded.

Matthew twisted the foil in his fingers and resumed the on-guard position. "I have indeed."

That very same evening he left the law offices of Murray and Murray he had dinner with the Swires. Reggie left the young couple alone to take a telephone call in his office. Matthew had turned to Lavinia on the sofa they shared in the sitting room and opened his hand for her to take. He had been well aware that she might say no. She had every right to refuse as they had only known each other a few months and she didn't really know what his prospects entailed beyond a small stipend as a tutor. But she was so kind hearted and unfazed by his condition. Matthew had asked for her hand in marriage and Lavinia had accepted. Mr. Swire had returned just in time to congratulate the happy couple.

It was only after a subsequent dinner did he let on about his inheritance. He heard Lavinia's intake of breath as she gasped. She clasped his hand and said nervously, "Oh my goodness."

"You will be a poor tutor's wife long before you are a countess," he had tried say with a certain self-deprecation. "So we'll have a lot of time to adjust."

He never did disclose that the proposal came about only because Grantham had gotten under his skin and because he hated appearing deficient and nothing but a burden on the Crawley family. It was not the best reason to extend an offer of marriage. But he knew she was terribly fond of him. She was always so sweet, so supportive. And he was tender hearted in return. They'd make a good match.

He knew he was lucky. He had found someone who wanted to share his life. He suppressed any doubts he had about Lavinia's reasons for saying yes. Or his own deception in anticipating her acceptance.

XX

"Mary have you seen Edith?" Sybil was dressed in her VAD uniform and had a bundle of sheets in her arm. "She said she was going to library but hasn't returned."

"She went to fetch a book for that one in the cot there I think?" And she pointed to man in the corner of the salon.

"Lt. Fletcher?" Sybil admired the young man who had become injured in saving the life of a private by shoving him out of the way of an incoming shell.

Mary shrugged languidly. "If you say so."

Sybil ignored her sister's ennui. It was good of Mary to pitch in at all considering her recent bereavement. Not that she truly loved Patrick. Everyone knew that. She had worn half black for a few weeks but was now in colour again, wearing a muted blue check blouse and long skirt. It seemed it was lack of anything else to occupy her time that led her to helping out with the convalescent home.

The announcement of Matthew Crawley as the next heir had come as quite the shock to the family. Sybil had not spoken to him at the afternoon party he and his mother had attended, but she had observed Mary and Matthew returning together from the direction of the monk's garden. Mary had appeared flustered but kept it hidden with a façade of indifference and the condescension of _noblesse oblige_ towards the less fortunate.

Sybil knew her sister well. The more she appeared heartless, the more she was actually fascinated. And she was particularly cool towards Matthew Crawley after their reappearance.

At some point she'd have to ask Mary what had happened in that walk in the woods.

"Sybil." Mary's voice cut through her thoughts. "why are you spending so much time near the garage recently?"

Mary had promised Granny Violet to inquire about the potential of Sybil having a secret passion for the chauffeur. It did seem possible as Sybil was ever rebellious. At first it was her charities and now the nursing.

"Why do you want to know? Why does anyone go to the garage?" Sybil bit her lip, knowing that denial gave her away. Mary was too astute to fall for that.

"I go to order the car of course. Don't be evasive Sybil."

"I'm not." Sybil stuck her jaw out. "Branson is a person. He can discuss things other than where his employers wish to plan a journey."

"But not with you."

"Times are changing. You say so yourself." Sybil decided on another tactic. "You can do what you want with whom you want. Go to parties in London barely six weeks after your fiancée was killed but I must be interrogated for speaking civilly to the chauffeur."

Mary clicked her tongue and snapped, "It's the Soldiers' and Sailors' Wives Club. Not some sordid Roman Bacchanalia. And Mama agreed I should go. It's unseemly nowadays to be in mourning too long what with so many dead. The Sketch said elaborate mourning was in the worst taste and a morbid exaggeration of sorrow."

"Does she know it came as the result of knowing Lt. Commander Foyle would be on leave?"

Her sister rounded her mouth but said nothing.

"I didn't think so." Sybil said triumphant. "So I'm not the only one keeping secrets."

And before Mary could recover sufficiently to riposte Sybil walked back into the music room to deliver the sheets to matron.

XX

"That was delicious." Matthew wiped the side of his mouth and then put the linen down next to the plate.

"We're very lucky to have Mrs. Asprey." Lavinia said. "She's been with us for years."

Reggie explained further. "Ever since my wife died of cholera in India and we returned to England. Lavinia was quite young and doesn't remember much but she used to spend hours in the kitchen with Mrs. Asprey helping her make scones which she'd then serve to me at tea, bringing in the tray herself and placing it down on the table and waiting for me to eat. Her eyes wide and bright in anticipation."

"I hoped they weren't hard as rocks." Lavinia replied. "I must have been only four or five."

"Even if they were I'd never have said," her father answered sweetly, then riposted "besides Mrs. Asprey would never let that escape her notice."

They both laughed at the memory.

Matthew could hear such emotion in the older man's voice. Such affection for his daughter. The connection between them was strong. Very much like his own mother and himself. Bound by the sharing of grief. Isobel was expected on the train the next day where she would then join Matthew for dinner at the Swire's London Kensington residence. She had taken the news of their engagement in stride as far as Matthew could tell. He had told her over the telephone where they had then made plans to meet in the capitol.

"When was this?" He asked, knowing only that Lavinia had told him she had not been born in England when they first got acquainted.

"1900 I believe. We returned from India in 1899. I gave up my position with the civil service and returned to private practice in London. Lavinia went to a day school for girls." Reggie's voice faltered.

"I'm sorry." Matthew's brow knitted. "I didn't mean to bring up sensitive memories."

"It's fine my boy." Reggie said. "You are curious as you should be. I went out to India with the ICS with my university flat mate Clive Pulbrook. I met and married Lavinia's mother there. He stayed on when we returned."

"Do you remember anything about your childhood in India?" Matthew asked Lavinia.

"Not really. I remember reading The Little Princess when I was at school and imaging myself as Sara Crewe."

"I did much the same with Kipling's Kim." Matthew mused. "Such adventures I had in my head trading horses in disguise as a vagabond." He paused, "I had a braille copy of that book. Mother said I'd wear down the embossed characters with all the times I read it."

Lavinia reached over to clasp Matthew's hand. "I might be able to find a piece of jewelry my mother wore in India for my gown. Something old or blue perhaps."

Matthew gave a broad smile. "I can't wait. I know Mother may think we're rushing things but I don't see any point in waiting."

"We've already had Hopkins who helps out with about everything around here to start clearing the larger of the spare bedrooms for us to use when we return from the honeymoon." Lavinia said. "I told him to make sure there was not a lot of clutter to make it easier for you to get around."

Matthew bit his lip and tried not to appear put out. It was very kind of her to think about such practicalities. But it also was yet another reminder he could not afford rooms of their own. Indeed Lavinia's marriage settlement would be far more than any income he would make either at St. Dunstan's or at Cambridge.

It simply made him melancholy at a time he was supposed to be at his happiest. He had found a lovely bride. But as with the Crawley inheritance, it hit home he still had no real autonomy. He would always have to depend on the benevolence of others. And never show at any time anything other than gratitude.

He grew in understanding why so many others became recluses, simply giving up becoming a part of the greater world.

Shaking those gloomy thoughts off, he said his good-bye reminding Lavinia of his mother's impending arrival. "She'll have dinner with us and then we're to go to yet another of her charities. This one for soldiers and sailors." Matthew said with a touch of resigned good humor. "I told her we'd buy plenty of raffle tickets."

"I look forward to seeing her again."

Matthew gave Lavinia a kiss on her knuckles and a squeeze of her hand while her father hailed a cab. He scraped his cane on the sidewalk until he found the curb. "I can find my own way in." He said to the cab driver. And he reached out his hand to find the door.

He got inside and gave directions back to the hostel. Upon arrival he walked upstairs to his room.

Taking off his coat and hat, Matthew listened once again to Joseph reciting the same sonnet from Milton he said every night before bedtime.

 _When I consider how my light is spent_  
 _Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,_  
 _And that one talent which is death to hide_  
 _Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent_  
 _To serve therewith my Maker, and present_  
 _My true account, lest he returning chide,_  
 _"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"_  
 _I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent_  
 _That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need_  
 _Either man's work or his own gifts: who best_  
 _Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state_  
 _Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed_  
 _And post o'er land and ocean without rest:_  
 _They also serve who only stand and wait."_

This was a poem known to Matthew. Ever since going blind well-meaning teachers would recite passages, particularly the last line, thinking they were being kind when it only reinforced the notion his sole purpose in life was to accept that his station was now that akin to a beggar, awaiting without rancor for the charity of others. Grateful for the crumbs they bestowed.

That was not what the poem actually intended but Matthew found it impossible to engage in any real conversation about blindness to those who were sighted. There was an insufferable air of condescension about them he usually gave up. So here at St. Dunstan's he and Joseph had many a long, sometimes heated debate as to what was the true purpose of the poem, for their own lives as well as how the world saw them.

This night Matthew returned from the bathroom down the hallway in his pyjamas. Putting aside his blanket on the bed, he sat down on the chair next to it and pulled off his slippers. He said, "Don't you ever get frustrated with how much we are denied in life?"

Joseph always took the approach that it was his lot in life to be blind. So he responded, "I need to accept it and do as Milton instructed which is 'God doth not need either man's work nor his own gifts' to serve Him well. And that to do God's bidding is to bear my burden with patience and dignity."

Matthew knew that Joseph intended a career in the church. "But don't you see any hypocrisy in that the Anglican church doesn't accept blind priests?"

"Not at all." Joseph justified. "There are things I cannot do. But I can find my way as a lay minister perhaps. Or a Sunday school teacher."

To Matthew that would be the epitome of vexation but for Joseph the parable set out in Matthew 25 was clear for him. He was to use his "talent," his blindness, in the service of others, in the glory of God.

"Of course," Joseph would say to Matthew. "you went blind like Milton. So you had a before and after. How to consider "'how my life is spent ere half my days.'"

"I was 13 not 42." Matthew responded. "He had already had a long life using his intelligence in the government of Oliver Cromwell. He found it difficult to know how he could work once he went blind. I think he's telling himself it's fine to do nothing but he really wants to still be useful. And indeed he did his best work after he went blind. He dictated "Paradise Lost" to a series of secretaries in his employ."

"So you're afraid of not accomplishing anything important?" Joseph asked.

"I feel as though I was meant for one kind of life and have gotten stuck rather with another." Matthew admitted. "And it's all well and good to say I can still be useful, but when you had your sight and then it was taken away for nothing you have done, it feels as if I've been cheated out of the life I was meant to have."

"But you just said Milton did his best work after he went blind."

Matthew shifted in the chair by his bed. "But he was a genius poet. I wanted to be a lawyer. He could do his work at home. The Inns of Court don't want blind advocates."

"You've managed so far." Joseph reasoned. "And you're only 24. Don't sell your future short."

"Yes." Matthew said politely but it was mostly because he didn't want to start an argument. He was very good at giving the attitude to others that his blindness didn't matter to him and that he could get on in life. But his internal struggle was much more at odds with his public demeanour. At times he seethed in anger about all that had been taken from him.

And then he realized there was absolutely nothing to be done about it.

XX

Mary fidgeted with her earring. She was at Painswick House under her aunt's chaperoning duty. The Soldier's and Sailor's Club party and raffle was that evening. Anna removed the curling iron and twisted the ringlet with her fingers so it curled elegantly down Mary's cheek.

"That's lovely, Anna." Mary moved her face closer to the mirror. Her hair was up, but no elaborate French twists or Newport knots and certainly no extravagant pins or jewels.

"I've been practicing with these new hairstyles." Anna examined her handiwork. "It's more subdued but still sophisticated."

"Quite lovely." Mary approved. "You're a genius with hair."

"Thank you, milady."

"Are you off tomorrow on your mission to help out Mrs. Patmore?" Mary stood up and selected a wrap. "She's to have her procedure soon, right?"

"In two days. I've already seen her settled at the doctor's and I'm to check on her every day until we return to Yorkshire."

"Will she travel back with us?"

"No. It will be about a fortnight recovery. I'm to come back and fetch her then."

Mary nodded and thought no more about it. Her aunt was downstairs waiting for her. She hoped to see Tony at the party. He was rather full of himself, Mary admitted. But he was titled and therefore a proper suitor in her father's eyes but without the encumbrance of being forced upon her by him. The knowledge that a blind man was to be his heir had unsettled her father a great deal. One benefit of that however was that she had no worries about being forced to marry her distant cousin Matthew Crawley.

Not that she ever had such a thought. Although recently she found herself musing on what type of woman would marry a blind man. She didn't know Lavinia Swire at all, not surprising given they traveled in very different social circles. But she imagined her to be a shy, retiring girl. Not much traveled in the world and one submissive to tending to the needs of her family.

Was that the kind of woman Matthew wanted? A caretaker more than a wife? Or was that the best he could expect and so grabbed at the opportunity that any woman would want him.

It made her sad to think so as he seemed such an intelligent man. Cheeky really with his request to touch her face.

She flushed red at the memory.

Would she have wanted him if circumstances were different? Her papa would not want her burdened with such a husband. He hardly wanted the man as his heir but there was nothing to be done about it.

No, Mary concluded, she and Tony made a much better match. She was too much aware of society's expectations for her to accept attentions from anyone who'd be nothing more than the object of pity.

Mary met her aunt at the door and the two women walked outside to the waiting cab to take them to the charity event.

XX

Matthew had woken with a headache the day his mother arrived by train earlier that morning. He had some duties to fulfill at the hostel so after she stopped by top tell him she had arrived they made plans to meet after his work day was over and he had dressed for dinner at the Swire's. He wore a badge from St. Dunstan's now and in daytime dark glasses to make sure he would have no further incidents like the white feather.

Headaches were one of the side effects of the pituitary tumour. He had lived with them ever since the diagnosis at thirteen. This one was particularly painful, making his head throb like a thousand drums played inside his head. Did it mean the tumour was worsening? He shoved that thought aside for the moment as he deftly tied the bow tie while seated on the chair in his room at St. Dunstan's. It had been one of the tasks he had set himself as an adolescent to be independent, managing after several failures to knot and affix the tie around his collar and with touch know that it was even and straight.

His mother had brought his dinner jacket with peaked lapel, matching trousers, shoes, and dark tie along with her when she arrived from Manchester. She dropped them off with Matthew where he then told her he'd be along that evening in a taxi to pick her up from the hotel for their dinner. All he had to do was get through the evening and see his mother onto the morning train and then he could go see Dr. Trimble the eye specialist. He'd not tell his mother or Lavinia for fear of worrying them unnecessarily.

Matthew rummaged through the top drawer of the night table to find the paracetamol. He swallowed two with a glass of water and finished dressing.

"Are you sure you don't want to come along? The Swire's would welcome you for dinner and we could all go along to this charity thing." Matthew asked Joseph even though he knew the answer. Joseph always spent the evenings in quiet contemplation with his braille bible.

"Maybe next time." Joseph responded, pausing his fingers in mid-sentence to add "Have a good time."

"I'll try." Matthew rubbed his aching brow and left.

After a quiet meal Reggie begged off attending the charity event as well claiming he had some work to do. Lavinia told Matthew in the cab that he would probably go to bed. He wasn't feeling well at all but was too stubborn to admit it.

"Like someone else I know." Lavinia's voice gave away her gentle rebuke to Matthew. "I know you're trying to hide it."

"I'm fine." He protested mildly. "I feel better after eating."

"We won't stay long." His mother assured. "I just need to make an appearance and buy some tickets for the association in Manchester. I said I would."

Matthew let the two women fuss over him until the taxi cab arrived at Lady McIntosh's house. He felt the car jerk forward as the driver stepped on the brakes. As soon as the cabbie opened the passenger side Matthew got out and stood beside the door, putting his hand out to help Lavinia and Isobel down the step to the pavement.

"Which way?" Matthew reached out with his cane to step towards the house. With the other Lavinia accepted his arm.

His mother led them towards the entrance.

Once inside, and after greeting the widowed president of the Sailors and Soldiers Club of London, Lavinia and his mother were whisked away to purchase their charity tickets.

Matthew told them to go along, he'd sit right here by the fire until they returned.

The sounds of the party buzzed in his head. People talking, some kind of music playing in a distant room. A waiter came by to ask if he wanted anything, but he said no. He had been lying to Lavinia earlier. This headache would not subside. It pounded like bellows.

The quiet corner helped. He put his head in his hands and massaged his temple.

Abruptly he felt a great weight lift off his skull. It was as if the headache just disappeared.

Matthew sighed in relief but did not lift his head, simply letting his body relax from the release of pain.

XX

"Mary dear," Lady McIntosh bowed her head in a friendly fashion towards her the Crawley women. "Rosamund told me you were in London. So good of you to come after your recent tragedy. We must move forward however, place our own needs aside in lieu of the greater good." And then she moved off in a swirl of chiffon towards another guest.

Mary hardly had a chance to nod politely.

Rosamund spikely observed, "She's ever on the latest thing. And unfortunately, these days it's to be seen tending to the needs of our men in khaki even if one wonders if it's only to get high ranking generals and government officials to attend her soirees."

"I thought she was your friend?" Mary knew her aunt was acquainted with all the best families in London.

"She's useful." Rosamund admitted. "Which sometimes is more important." She lifted one of the proffered champagne flutes from the waiter's tray. "For example, I thought temperance was the rule of the day to sign the pledge to 'Follow the king' that no wines or spirts would be consumed." Rosamund took a sip. "but she knows most of these people show up just to consume her ill-gotten goods."

She gave one to Mary. Rosamund held it up to toast, "Dutch courage," she smirked at Mary. "We're going to need it." She dipped her head towards the return of Lady McIntosh barreling down to make sure they bought plenty of raffle tickets.

Mary managed to escape the duchess's grasp by being rescued by Lord Gillingham who approached and politely begged the duchess that Mary be allowed to greet his mother across the room.

She was released.

"Is your mother really here?" Mary asked as they walked into the salon.

"Always make a lie as truthful as possible." Tony winked. "She wanted to come but was waylaid by my ailing aunt at the last minute. Let's get away while we can."

Mary followed in his wake around the room. She always felt an ornament decorating Tony's arm and enhancing his status, a means to an end despite all his affected attentions.

And she really had no excuse as she was using him as well. She wanted to get away from the confines of Downton and the grumblings of her father about the new heir, about how his home had been overtaken without his consent, and about how he had no purpose in the war.

Mingling with some acquaintances, she got separated from Tony. Walking back to retrace her steps she took a corner and stopped short, taken completely by surprise finding Matthew semi-hidden sitting on a chair beside the fireplace in the library alcove.

XX

He felt a presence in front of him.

"Lavinia?" He called out. But the scent was wrong.

The voice responded in familiar tones. "It's Cousin Mary. Matthew, are you feeling well? You look very pale." She leaned down in front of him.

As soon as she spoke, without her needing to identify herself, he knew who she was. His heart thumped faster at her dulcet tone. A shiver ran down his body. Would he ever not respond like that when this woman was in his presence?

Matthew lifted his head and opened his eyes. "I had a bit of a headache but I seem better all of a sudden."

And then he blinked as Mary's face came into focus. Details that left him dumbfound. Her expression was etched with concern. Her hair swept back with a simple pin. She was wearing a dark red dress with wrap.

She had brown eyes.

His mouth fell open. He blinked rapidly. Closed his eyes and opened them again. She was still there looking concerned. Matthew tried to stand but he was completely disoriented. The room swam around him in waves of colour and shade.

He lost his footing but she caught his arm and helped him back down onto the chair.

"Matthew?" Mary could swear that his eyes no longer held the vacant look she remembered from his visit to Downton.

He reached out towards her and then yanked his hand back towards his body. Matthew longed to touch her. To make sure this was not a dream.

But it wasn't a dream. His vision had truly returned and he had no right to take such a liberty.

She was so very beautiful.

He could see her. He could actually see her.

Matthew's mind went completely blank. He had no idea how to proceed. Many moments passed, how many he had no idea. He put his hand out in front of his face. He could see his hand. He flexed it into a fist and back out to a splayed position. Finally he licked his lips and tried to stutter out an answer. "I… I…" Nothing more. His lips moved but nothing came out.

His eyes returned to rest upon Mary's face. In the midst of sensory chaos, he found his peace.

"Do you see me?" Mary finally got up the nerve to ask.

Matthew needed to regain his composure. "Yes." He finally managed to say in a hoarse whisper. "I can see. I … I don't know how… but I can see."

Mary's lips curved into an ecstatic smile. "That's wonderful."

He chuckled. "I suppose it is." Matthew grinned cheekily. He could hardly believe this was happening. "Perhaps you should pinch me. I think I must be dreaming."

Mary had to look away so she could regain her composure. He was so very good looking when he replaced his melancholy with happiness.

They shared a private laugh.

And then Matthew's eyes went wide. He remembered his mother and fiancée. He had been so wrapped up in drinking in Mary's presence he had quite forgotten anything else existed.

"Oh my God I have to find my mother." He bolted upright. This time the room, though still swaying, was coming into focus. He could make out the faces of the partygoers. Would he remember what his mother looked like? Ten years after last seeing her?

His face paled once more.

Mary sensed he still needed a few minutes to convince himself all this was true. "May I offer my congratulations on your engagement." Mary's voice returned to the prescribed tone one would use to a distant relation.

Their moment of familiarity was lost.

They both knew it.

Matthew looked at Mary. He was keenly aware of her every movement, she curled a ringlet around her ear. She wore a string of pearls around a slender neck.

His eyes darted around the room. "Would you like to meet her?"

Mary demurred, knowing the moment of revelation should be a private one. "It's far too noisy and crowded. Bring her to Downton when Papa invites you for dinner. He said he was going to do so before the new year. He'll be so pleased…"

Matthew blurted out "Don't tell him quite yet. I don't want him given false hope. I'm going to see my specialist tomorrow."

Mary wiped a finger across her mouth and tightened her lips. "No names no pack drill," She made a move to leave but turned back. They shared one last look into each other's eyes. "Such good luck," Mary whispered against his ear and gave his cheek a kiss. Then she left, returning to the throng of invited guests.

Did any of that actually happen?

Is any of this really happening? Matthew refused to accept this was a temporary thing. A fluke of fate that gave him hope only to have it snatched away.

His cheek still tingled from Mary's lips. He felt his face flush at the memory. He still followed her with his eyes. He couldn't help himself.

A man asserted himself into Mary's path making her stop. She accepted his proffered arm and the two were swept away into the crowd. He was a naval officer as far as Matthew could tell, the uniform darker and a different colour than the army.

Matthew's face soured slightly but it brought him back to reality. He then he shook his head. He had to pull himself together and try to find his family.

XX

 _All bets are off now … all sorts of things are going to change. I hope to stay with us!_

 _ **From wikipedia: When I Consider How My Light is Spent** " is one of the best known of the sonnets of John Milton (d. 1674). The last three lines (concluding with "They also serve who only stand and wait.") are particularly well known, though rarely quoted in context._

 _The sonnet was first published in Milton's 1673 Poems. In his autograph notebook (known as the "Trinity Manuscript" from its location in the Wren Library of Trinity College, Cambridge), Milton gave the sonnet the number 19, but in the published book it was numbered 16 (see Kelley, 1956;[1] Revard, 2009,[2] p. 569), so both numbers are in use for it. It is popularly given the title On His Blindness, but there is no evidence that Milton used this title;_ it was assigned a century later by Thomas Newton in his 1761 edition of Milton's poetry,[3] as was commonly done at the time by editors of posthumous collections


	5. Chapter 5

Previously:  
 _His cheek still tingled from Mary's lips. He felt his face flush at the memory. He still followed her with his eyes. He couldn't help himself._

 _A man asserted himself into Mary's path making her stop. She accepted his proffered arm and the two were swept away into the crowd. He was a naval officer as far as Matthew could tell, the uniform darker and a different colour than the army._

 _Matthew's face soured slightly but it brought him back to reality. He then he shook his head. He had to pull himself together and try to find his family._

XX

Matthew was spellbound by everything. Mouths moving, arms and hands gesturing. A quartet of musicians in a corner. One striking the piano keys, two others violin bows. There were so many things to see. He wanted to devour all of it with his eyes. He felt no more headache pain. When he couldn't see but only hear he had learned to filter out sounds, but now everything flooded in. He found it hard to deal with the deluge even as he could not look away. Uniformed men and women in long gowns drinking from elegant flutes. A few older footmen in evening dress like himself, though most were female servants threading through the crowds with trays balanced on fingertips. That underscored his belief he stuck out like a sore thumb among all the younger men.

He sat back down to catch his breath.

After bumping and jostling into several people as he found his way around the room, Matthew believed he found the raffle table. And the older woman speaking to someone handing out tickets was his mother. Older than he remembered of course, but her quick smile and clipped voice were unmistakable. Just as he remembered as a young adolescent.

He stared at her long and hard, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. She had never let him give up on himself.

And the younger woman, Lavinia. Looking at his fiancé for the very first time he realized what a lucky man he was indeed. She had lovely light auburn hair and a very slender frame. He approached and reached out his arm to clasp her hand.

"Darling."

Lavinia gasped and turned around at his touch. "Matthew?" She stared at him, putting a startled hand to her mouth when she realized he was truly looking at her.

He put his finger to his mouth in a covert gesture and turned to his mother, placing a hand onto Isobel's shoulder.

"Mother." His voice quavered, he couldn't help the tears that started to flow.

Isobel turned around. Her son looked at her. Directly in her eyes. Tried so hard not to blink or look away. A huge grin spreading across his face.

"What…?" Isobel asked. And then, "What's happening?"

And then she just gave in, the questions languished on her lips. She knew the answer. She just knew….

"My dear boy." She put her hand on his cheek wiping away the trickling tears. Matthew bit his lip to stop crying outright in front of so many people.

Mother and son embraced. "How is this possible?" Isobel could hardly believe this turn of events. The longer Matthew remained blind, the longer she resigned herself to his condition, taking pleasure simply in his being alive.

"It's a miracle." Lavinia said, gripping Matthew's hand.

Still in shock Matthew rotated his head from one to the other. Would this last an hour? A day? Or the rest of his life? He had no idea. It was enough he tried to tell himself that he had this moment alone.

He drew in both women for another embrace. "I don't want to think too much about why or how. I'll see the doctors tomorrow." Matthew let them go and glanced around the room to find a waiter. "Tonight let's just grab some of those champagne flutes and celebrate."

They toasted to the marvel of Matthew's returned sight and walked into the salon to hear the quartet play a Mozart piece for piano and strings.

Matthew felt lightheaded and out of step with everything and everyone in the room but he didn't let on. He noticed Lavinia watching him out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't sure about it but he thought she had a rather pensive look upon her face. He was unused anymore to discerning facial expressions and their meaning so he didn't trust his sense that Lavinia's concern might be that he would change his mind about their sharing a future together.

Why would that even enter his head?

He glanced over Lavinia's head only to have his heart once again leap into his throat.

Mary was talking with another woman but looked up just at the same time.

The noise of the crowd fell away. He locked eyes with her.

It was just the two of them. The moment smoldered like a slowly stoked fire.

Mary's mouth slipped into a soft smile before turning back to the conversation with her group of friends.

Matthew took longer to recover. His body slumped as if starved for oxygen. She was just so damned enigmatic. Rather than give him clarity, his eyesight's return only made him realize his utter lack of certainty on anything anymore.

Lavinia tugged gently on his arm, telling him she believed his mother was ready to depart.

He turned into her willingly, needing to believe in her constancy to settle his nerves.

XX

Matthew slept deep into the next morning. Being a Sunday he wasn't expected at work until after noon. He woke fully expecting to see the usual darkened shades of grey and white.

Instead he saw the golden hues of the sun through the filtered slits of the curtain in his bedroom. He rose and took his hand and pulled the drapery away.

He saw the sun for the first time since the age of thirteen. It burned bright and hurt his eyes. The sky was winter blue. The tree outside his room swayed in a light breeze. Just beyond patients walked around an inner court yard with canes, tentative and halting in their movements.

Learning to take their first steps after knowing they were permanently blind.

Something he was not anymore.

His hand trembled on the window sill. What was he then?

A permanently sighted man? Capable of rejoining the world as a functioning member of society?

Or one destined to have this dream revoked at any moment and return to a place of darkness and incapacity?

Each scary in their own right. The middle also so. Neither sighted nor blind, bouncing from one to the other every few years?

Or worse? Was this a sign of an expanding tumour? And the dire consequences that might be.

He did not want to die. But neither did he want to live a life in limbo always afraid of the dying of the light. He slumped heavily against the window frame and dropped down to his knees. Hopefully the doctors would tell him what was going on.

The tap on the door meant Joseph was returning. Matthew had not disturbed his roommate's slumber the night before to tell him about his eyes.

Matthew reached out to put his hand on the wall to help himself back up and with the other unconsciously reached for his cane for balance.

And then he remembered he didn't need to do that. Dropping the cane with a clatter he stood up and tried to pull himself together. He didn't want his voice to quaver at all when telling his friend of his own good fortune.

"Finally getting up lazy bones?" Joseph ribbed his friend. "I thought I'd have to practice all by myself." He walked towards his side of the room to grab his foil.

"Sorry." Matthew replied. "We were late getting back last night." He paused, "Joseph. I have something to tell you. I had that bad headache yesterday, remember?"

"I do." Joseph sat down on the bed.

"At the party it went away. And when I opened my eyes, I could see." Matthew tried to sound calm, but inevitably his voice rose upon the revelation of the return of his sight.

"I say…" Joseph said. "Gosh…"

Matthew could see his friend's shocked expression even with his face half hidden by the dark glasses. Joseph was tall and reed thin.

"Since it's Sunday I have to wait to go to the specialist tomorrow."

"Why wait? You can see someone here. Let's go see if Dr. Fischer is around. I think he's working today."

Matthew let that sink in. "Right. Is he in the office in the back?"

"I'll take you." Joseph stood back up and made a move towards the door.

Matthew beat him to it and opened the door. "I've got it. It's open."

If Joseph was put out by Matthew's good fortune he didn't show. He left Matthew with the ophthalmologist.

After putting through Matthew through several tests of his vision, Dr. Fischer took out a small torch like device.

"Your adenoma, Matthew." Dr. Fischer spoke while shining the light to the back of Matthew's left eye. "How long since it was diagnosed?"

"Eleven years."

"And the only symptom was your loss of vision?"

"Yes." Matthew answered. "And the occasional headache. I lost consciousness a few times when it was first diagnosed but nothing like that for years."

"I see." Dr. Fischer continued with his exam.

Matthew was getting anxious for an answer. "Is it going to go away again? I mean… is this temporary?"

"I'm going to dilate your eyes to get a better look at the back of your eyes with the ophthalmoscope but as far as I can see your vision is back to normal. We can't actually see the tumour but it is no longer pinching your optic nerve. The only thing is you still have some loss of peripheral vision in the left eye."

Matthew drew a sharp intake of breath.

"But…" Dr. Fischer continued. "It's far too early to say this is a permanent change. Your Harley Street man…"

"Dr. Trimble." Matthew supplied the answer.

"Yes. He's got more specialized knowledge of your case. I will defer to his judgement on the connecting issue of the adenoma. But for now I say you can rejoice and enjoy yourself."

Matthew sat back against the hard seat. His whole future potentially changed forever. Or a day.

He chose to believe a new future was now laid out before him.

He thanked the doctor and left. Matthew walked down the hallway, a journey he had made every day for the past two months but with the helping aid of his cane.

Now he made his way on his own back to his room to gather up his shaving kit and toothbrush to take to the bath down the hallway. Opening the door he moved to the sink taps to start his morning ablutions. He realized there was a mirror. He had not known that before, but of course there were plenty of sighted orderlies and therapists who lived in house or used the toilets.

Matthew tentatively looked up. He hardly knew himself anymore. When he went blind he had been barely thirteen, young and gangly. No beard to shave but thick, unruly blond hair.

Well that was the same. He pulled his fingers through his hair to lift the curls over his eyes. Matthew moved closer to see his own reflection.

He pulled on his eyelids, opening them wide.

He stared for he knew not how long.

Who was he anymore? Take away his blindness, the thing that he had learn to live in uneasy companionship with for his entire adult life, and what was he?

A new man. Not half bad looking either he couldn't help but notice.

Matthew squared his shoulders back. A new life beckoned. Time to go make the most of it.

He tidied up, shaving and brushing his teeth, and dressed for the day's work. He walked towards the main ward where he took up his regular duty of helping transition family members to caring for their loved ones who have been identified as permanently blind.

Before he could begin to talk to Mrs. Wiggins and her daughters the word had gotten out among the nursing and care staff about Matthew' sight. He was given congratulatory hugs and handshakes.

The head nurse gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Matron," he stumbled slightly in identifying her. Still stunned that he could see the formidable woman. "I wondered if we could have a chat later?"

"Mr. Crawley," Mrs. Chesney's no-nonsense tone was known to Matthew, but not her considerable girth. She was perfect for her position in keeping St. Dunstan's staff in order. "I thought you might. I'll be back after my rounds."

And with that she was gone again. Matthew was left slightly slack jawed, wondering how she could possibly know his intentions to leave his duties at St. Dunstan's.

He had hardly come to terms with it himself.

Matthew returned to the paperwork of Sgt. Wiggins's diagnosis, captivated by once again being able to read print rather than the raised Braille dots. Indeed he was equally appalled and fascinated by everything. He was going to take a long walk around London later in the afternoon, ending up at the Swire residence where they were going out for a celebratory dinner. But for now he was finding peace of mind in trying to get along with his regular duties.

In walking through the ward he had been overwhelmed by the scars and wounds of the men recuperating. It had been easier when he was blind, he admitted ruefully to himself. The ulcerations, inflammations, corneal erosion from the mustard gas victims. Conjunctivitis, perforations, edematous clouding, necrosis…the list of damages went on and on. And then the other injuries, some of the men double arm amputees, or others with gangrenous leg wounds bound up but still emanating a stench that had made him almost gag when he could only smell. Now the added sensory stimuli of sight made his entire body shake as he realized the extent of physical and psychological suffering these men had endured.

Sgt. Wiggins had extensive abdominal injuries on top of the infected corneal ulcerations. Matthew tried not to flinch when he first saw the wounded man on his first round the ward. He had previously long discussions with the man in the past week, trying to get him ready to meet his loved ones. Wiggins had been self-educated and well-read in the classics which had surprised Matthew.

"Nothing else to do in the trenches than smoke fags and wait. So I found some books in a shop and took them with me." He had explained to Matthew. "That was before the gas came of course."

They had spent hours quizzing the other's knowledge of passages from Homer, particularly because of the connection to the blind poet and their own lives.

But that was when Matthew shared that affliction.

Now he was distracted by the bandages, the blood, the ulcerated eyes that had no lashes or eyebrows. Hooded and cloudy the sightless man stared blankly ahead. He didn't even turn his head when Matthew had approached earlier to gently inform him his wife and children were expected within the hour. A nursing sister would bring them along.

The man's hand was clammy in Matthew's as he held it out to shake.

"Have I heard right that thi've got your eyes back?" The broad south Lancashire dialect well known to Matthew's ears.

Matthew was almost embarrassed to confirm. "Yes. I began to see last night. The doctors don't seem to know why."

" _We have what we did not find…_ eh?" Wiggins quoted the first part of a well-known riddle from Homer.

Matthew gave a knowing smile. "Indeed. But I hope not what the boys left or what Homer found." The two shared a laugh. The three boys in the riddle had lice while the telling of it to the poet foretold Homer's own death according to legend.

"I have some paperwork to finish. I'll be back after sister brings your family."

Paul Wiggins gave Matthew a look. "Is it bad? You can tell me now."

Matthew's lip quivered. It was very bad indeed.

The silence was all the man needed. "Don't worry yeself lad," Wiggins replied. "I'm jest glad to be alive."

"I'll be back soon." Matthew turned away, overwhelmed by the man's resilient spirit.

Matthew was therefore sitting at the desk in the back when matron came to talk. He idly tapped the fountain pen on the blotting paper, deep in thought. The whole interaction with Wiggins had made him only firmer in his decision.

His mother wouldn't like it a bit.

Lavinia… well… Matthew bit the side of his mouth. She'd just have to understand his duty.

"Mr. Crawley you presumably want to discuss your future here." She took the chair adjacent to the desk.

"Yes Matron." Matthew pushed his chair back. He cleared his throat and tried to sound decisive. "I'm contemplating joining up."

The older woman nodded. "I thought as much. We'll be sad to see you leave. But are you sure the medical board will have you?"

"I…I." Matthew hesitated. "I'm not at all sure. But I have to see." His eyes drifted to all the men in the ward. Those who had heard the call of duty or were drafted under the recent Military Service Act and had paid the highest price. Their livelihoods gone, their future's uncertain.

He had to try. He wouldn't feel right otherwise.

He had been given a gift. These men deserved the best he had to give back.

XX

"I invited Matthew, his mother, and fiancée to dinner on Friday evening." Robert announced at dinner.

"Mrs. Patmore will be stretched." His wife observed. Cora gazed across the table to her husband. "The rationing is her regular complaint now."

"I'm sure she'll work her magic. Especially now that she's back in full form."

"I told her to take all the recommended rest but she wanted in the kitchen as soon as she returned from London."

Robert was content. "See. All is in hand."

Mary dryly observed, "What about the issue of being without a footman. I doubt Cousin Matthew has his own man."

"We can hardly manage a pre-war house party." Cora added. "Three guests will put us at the straining point."

Robert had enough. "Given what the boys at the front are experiencing, our going without extra hands to bathe and clothe us seems a small sacrifice," he said through gritted teeth.

Mary glanced over at her father. His face was pained and pinched. She knew he chafed at the lack of anything meaningful in his view to do with the war. She had kept her promise to Matthew not tell about the return of his eyesight. She wondered if the news would cheer him up.

"Did you meet Cousin Matthew's fiancée at Lady McIntosh's charity event?" Edith asked her sister. "You said he made an appearance with his mother."

"No." Mary dissembled slightly. "I hardly spoke to them. She must have been elsewhere."

"That must have vexed you." Sybil added with a certain impudence. "I know you want to know all about her."

"I do not." Mary sniffed. "What do I care. She is probably quite sheltered and shy. Hopefully she won't be overwhelmed by being here."

"She'll be countess one day." Edith needled her. "We should be happy for them."

"Of course I'm happy." Mary was irked at her sisters' implications she cared a fig for their distant cousin's love life. "Good luck to them I say. It's nothing to do with me." She then deliberately changed the subject, turning to her father. "I had a letter from Evelyn Napier. He's been slightly wounded in this last action on the Somme. I suppose this isn't the best time to ask if he could come to dinner as well. He is a family friend after all."

Robert looked up sharply, "Of course he's welcome. Given we've got no family member serving we should support all those who take up the king's shilling."

"I'll let him know." Mary sat back, pleased she had managed to get her own back with her siblings.

Cora sighed heavily. She and Mrs. Patmore would pore over the rationing to put together a complete meal. Violet, the dowager countess would also be inevitably invited and she'd want her full share. The Dower House was under even more rationing and she now often took her meals at the big house.

Then the room filled with a howling sound, haunting and terrifying. A pierced, keening wail followed.

Everyone paused their forks, each turning to the other.

Then silence as the convalescent was made quiet by a nurse.

The Crawley's resumed the meal. They had become sadly used to these outbreaks, ever realizing however, their house would never again truly be their own. They would share the history with the haunted spirits of these most wounded of men.

XX

Matthew helped his mother out of the car. Lavinia stood beside him.

Downton loomed ahead. It was massive Matthew realized, now that he could see the imposing Jacobean styled house. He determined not to let his anxiety show.

They would not confirm their expectations that these middle-class relatives would not know how to behave amongst the aristocracy as his mother chided him upon their first visit to Downton during the garden party.

He was just the unwanted blind relative then. Dismissed after a polite, if strained, interval.

Now he was the heir to title, lands, and money. And sighted as well. Truly a turn of events.

He had informed Lord Grantham of his good fortune by telephone after Dr. Trimble confirmed that the adenoma had shrunk for reasons unknown and, although he'd have regular optometric visits from now on to measure his field of vision, he'd have his eyesight for the foreseeable future.

Robert had sounded right pleased.

That had put Matthew on to his next decision only to have it thwarted by the Army board of doctors who had categorized him as Class D: unfit but could be within six months. The doctors had more or less told him that the category would be continued sine die, or without fixing a time he'd ever be recategorized as fit for service.

He felt nothing but dejection and failure. But with the invitation to Downton for dinner came the flash of insight.

Maybe he could use these connections to the landed peerage to change their minds.

"Shall we?" He reached out to offer his arm to Lavinia. His mother walked a step to the side.

"It's awfully grand." Lavinia whispered.

Matthew gave a rueful smile. "I'm sure we'll get used to calling it home one day."

Lavinia looked doubtful but walked on.

Inside a young woman took their coats.

Robert's voice was heard, "Hello. It's a pleasure to see you again Mrs. Crawley."

Isobel stepped forward. "We're delighted to be here. Aren't we Matthew?"

"Delighted." Matthew purred. He had promised to be on his best behaviour. He knew it was the Earl of Grantham by his voice. "May I present Miss Lavinia Swire."

Robert nodded. Cora swept forward, "Welcome to Downton."

"Quite a reception committee…" Matthew's attempt to amuse fell on deaf ears as the others became awkward at his seeming faux pas. He was quite overwhelmed with all the new faces to learn.

He noticed Mary giving him a glance, a brief puckish smile crossing her lips. Did she at least get his effort to break the ice?

The other two younger women must be the sisters. The other uniformed man he did not know at all. He was not the same one from the charity event in London.

He was rescued by his mother, "Thank you. We never saw the interior of the house when we attended the garden party. It's quite beautiful."

Introductions were made all around.

"This is Captain Evelyn Napier," Mary said, taking his arm. "He's with the Coldstream Guards."

Was he supposed to be impressed? Matthew thought. He could hardly keep up with all her suitors.

Robert then said, "Can I say how delighted we were to have the good news of your returned eyesight. Truly a miraculous event." He took Matthew's hand and shook it vigourously.

Robert's eyes were blue, his complexion ruddy. Matthew saw the look of utter relief on the older man's face and was suddenly pleased he could present himself now to this man truly as an heir to be proud of.

"Shall we go in to dinner?"

After everyone was seated, the footman began to serve the first course.

"I will hold it steady and you can help yourself, sir."

Matthew wasn't sure if the man was for real or being insulting. "I know," he responded curtly. Even blind he prided himself on being able to serve himself at dinner. As he ladled the soup into the bowl, though, Matthew noticed the man's hands shaking. He knew that gesture and wondered if this man had been lately in the trenches.

"Thank you," Matthew finished saying in a kindlier tone.

The footman walked awkwardly towards Lavinia.

She attempted to make small talk with Sybil. "I've heard you are a VAD. That must be quite daunting. Will you go to the front lines?"

Cora gasped in fear even as Sybil answered boldly, "I hope to. After I've had more training. I know Mama wants me to stay in safety but I cannot. Not with so much suffering going on in France and I could be of some use."

Matthew muttered a 'hear hear' under his breath. It was the exact same thoughts he was having.

Sybil must have heard him though, "What are your plans now Cousin Matthew? Now that you can see will you take up your duty?"

"My dear girl…" Her grandmother chastised. "Such talk at dinner puts one quite off the fish."

But Matthew was glad of the opportunity. "I do indeed. I want to enlist as soon as possible."

A silent pall fell over the table.

"What?" Mary's voice sliced the stillness. She darted her eyes around and then cast them down towards the table.

"You never told me that." Lavinia gave an anxious glare towards Matthew. "When did you decide this?" And then clapped her mouth tight as she realized she should not discuss such a private matter so openly as a guest at a formal dinner.

"I've had a stumbling block, however." Matthew continued, ignoring the displeasure of both women. He had to get this out. "One I hope to talk to you about, Cousin Robert. Later. Perhaps after the ladies retire to the drawing room."

He would use the outdated aristocratic traditions to his advantage. He needed to get Robert alone. Or as alone as possible, giving Captain Napier a dark glance.

Isobel looked at her son sharply but said nothing. He was his own man as he kept trying to tell his mother. She knew this would happen.

The rest of the meal finished in idle small talk. Finally Robert, Evelyn, and Matthew were left alone over port and cigars.

Matthew didn't particularly like cigars but he knew it was part of the ritual.

"So what is it you want to discuss?" Robert poured a small amount of the liquid into a glass. "Unlike the distress your news had on the ladies' I must admit I'm intrigued. I've had little luck in getting any position for myself outside of an honourary colonel in my old regiment." He sounded bitter.

"I had very little luck myself." Matthew confessed. "I went to the enlistment offices of several regiments but because of my eyesight issue each wanted further medical checkups. I was finally categorized as Class D. Unfit for service."

Robert's disappointment was written all over his face.

"Bad luck old man." Napier said. "But don't you think given your condition that is for the best. I don't know that I'd want you losing your sight again while on the lines. I don't mean any offence, but that's a reality you'd have to face."

"I know." Matthew admitted sourly. "I realize I could never serve in front line duty." Matthew plowed on, "But I was finally told by a member of the medical board that if I found a regiment that would have me, they'd lift the Class D and make me either a B or C where I could serve in some kind of support capacity."

He left it there, hoping Robert would pick up the thread.

"I could have a word with the North Riding. I'm sure we could find you something." Robert leaned forward across the table. "Would that suit?"

"I'd be in your debt, sir." Matthew looked directly at the earl. "I want nothing more right now than to find my way in this war."

"I would be proud to use my connections to help you to serve. You'd do me proud. And the family." Robert couldn't help but be pleased at this development. "My tailor in London could kit you out as soon as you're commissioned."

Matthew allowed Robert to pour another glass of sherry. This was exactly the transpiration of events he envisioned. He began to feel wanted at last by this formidable family and it felt good.

He pushed to the back of his mind the startled reactions of his mother and fiancée upon his dinner announcement.

They'd just have to understand.

And the look of panic that crossed Cousin Mary's face as well? He had been astonished his announcement had shaken her so. Especially as she had yet another officer fascinated by her beauty at her beck and call.

He'd have to watch himself.

Did she really care that much about the man she once teased couldn't feed himself without help?

He could get himself into real trouble with that woman.

Did he want to be? He felt an immediate sense of guilt wash over him. Lavinia had stuck by him when he was blind. She deserved all his attentions. Even as he'd have to deal with her fretting and anxiety over his pending enlistment.

He'd have never believed a week ago that his life would have been turned completely on its head. He could get exactly what he wanted. All his desires could come true.

Once again the image of Mary's face peering at his when he first could see came unbidden to his mind. It taunted and teased him.

He could have anything he wanted….

Did he want her?

XX

 _Hello and thanks for reading this story. I really appreciate everyone who's sticking with this MM fic. I'm guessing from the reviewing and viewing #s it's not to everyone's taste but I do assure you that we're getting to the heart of the story now and 'the heat is on' so to speak between Mary and Matthew. They're just in their typical denial period. :) It's going to take some turns and not everything will come up roses... but it's a journey I hope you'll take with me. Thank you._


	6. Chapter 6

_This is my contribution to the MM Secret Santa on tumblr. This is for HufflepuffHermione with all the Merry Christmas I can give!_

XX

Sybil hastened towards Mary. Her sister was carefully placing carafes of water by each convalescee's bedside.

"I've had the most brilliant idea."

Mary turned, one eye enquiringly arched. Sybil's ideas were always of a peculiar nature.

"We should put on a Christmas show of some kind. Including the men. At least the ones who are mobile. Skits. Singing. A panto maybe? Or a tableau." Sybil's ideas spilled out, her cheeks were flamed red in excitement. "Cheer everyone up enormously."

"We've had to ration the decorations." Mary acknowledged. "Too much work for staff."

"And not enough room for a tree." Sybil added. "Just some garlands and a few candles."

"What does the head matron think?"

"I've not asked yet." Sybil's mouth puckered. "I'm sure she'll agree once I tell her I'll take charge of all organization. Edith's agreed to play piano." She turned to her sister with a broad smile. "And you'll sing?"

Mary groaned and rolled her eyes. "I suppose. A carol or two perhaps?"

"And maybe some of the more popular tunes…. I know a few of them want to hear songs from shows they're missing."

Mary protested, "I'm not a performing monkey…."

"They're so dispirited. This will be an important part of the cure and it's so very little to ask."

She looked wide-eyed and plaintive at her beloved elder sister.

"Oh really Syb…" Mary clucked her tongue. And then smiled. "Of course I will."

Sybil let out a squeal of delight and kissed her sister on the cheek. "It will be such fun. We have only a day or two organize it. After my shift let's go through some of the trunks up in the attics to see if we can find some fancy-dress costumes. Anna said she'd help as well."

Mary returned to her task, suddenly feeling more in the holiday spirit herself than she expected. She started to hum "Silent Night."

XX

"Matthew, I don't understand the haste." Lavinia said as they walked through St. James Park on the way to Victoria station. "Your eyesight has just miraculously returned. It's still very much in question how long it will remain. You could wait into the new year to find some kind of war related work."

Matthew scowled. "You sound as if you want it to go away again. Is that why you wanted to marry me? To take care of a permanent invalid." He knew it to be unfair but he had become darkly suspicious of late that Lavinia had agreed to marry him only out of some kind of misplaced duty.

Lavinia countered, "You were hardly invalid Matthew. You achieved a great deal despite your blindness. I found that to be very admirable. A degree from Cambridge as well as an offer of an academic position. Your work at St. Dunstan has been praised by matron. Don't exaggerate just to get your way."

Matthew stopped as they reached the ticket office. He bought his one way to Manchester and grabbed hold of his hinged Gladstone overnight bag. It was newly purchased from Smythson's of Bond Street and had become quickly one of his prize possessions.

"I'm not going anywhere more dangerous than Coventry," Matthew put the bag down on the platform. The train was expected in five minutes. "I know they won't let me do much more than push paper so there's no need to worry."

He looked down at Lavinia's concerned face. "I'll be safe." He tried to moderate his tone. He wiped away a tear on her cheek before putting on his gloves.

"It's not just that." Lavinia admitted. "Everything's so topsy turvy. The wedding…"

"I think it best we postpone until I know what I'll be doing." Matthew interrupted. His eyes beetled back and forth as he spoke, as if his mind was already focused on meeting Colonel Reynolds in York the next day.

The train pulled into the station. Matthew moved towards the First-Class compartments.

Lavinia wanted to be surprised at that answer, but somehow she knew he'd have changed his mind. So eager a few weeks ago, now lately he had grown distant. Not in obvious affection. He was still sweet and courteous in his attentions. But there was a wariness there that had not been present before his retention of sight. Indeed since that very night she had felt a change. At first she blamed it on the shock. But it had continued and though she was willing to dismiss it for the time being she worried it would become a barrier between them. She had always been so at ease in his company. And now he resisted any attempt on her part to take care of him.

No fussing he'd say. He was fully capable of doing everything for himself now.

Did that really mean he no longer needed her? Or wanted her?

She put away such thoughts as his head bent down to gently kiss her cheek.

"I will see you in a couple of days. Mother is looking forward to hosting Christmas dinner for you and your father." His voice softened.

"As are we." Lavinia replied, stepping back as Matthew boarded the train. "Good-bye."

"See you Monday." He gave another wave and disappeared into the compartment just as the engine was getting up a head of steam.

Matthew put down his bag on the adjacent seat and sat down. Robert had arranged this meeting with the North Riding on Matthew's behalf and would meet him in York early the next morning.

After that he'd return to Manchester, he assumed.

Or would there be time to stop at Downton?

Matthew leaned against the back of the seat, a slow smile crossing his face at the thought.

XX

"Mother, Cousin Robert has generously offered us Crawley House and I believe, given the change of circumstances, we should accept." Matthew tried to moderate his voice but it still came out strained.

Isobel was pacing in front of the fireplace. It was the day before Christmas eve and Matthew was to go to Downton the next day to join Robert in the trip to York to meet the regimental colonel of the North Riding's. He would perhaps stay to tea at the Abbey and then take the train back to Manchester. Lavinia and her father would ride the train from London to join them in a Christmas Day dinner.

"What change?" Isobel's clipped voice was even more pronounced. "I fail to see how your return of eyesight has any connection to where I live."

Isobel was being deliberately obtuse, Matthew knew. He would have his way on this however. It was for the best.

"I'm enlisting in the North Riding and I will feel a great deal of relief if you are close by to family."

"Family? We barely know them."

"You're the one who was so keen we make a good impression. Now that I'm beginning to share that view I'd appreciate some cooperation." Matthew pinched his nose in between his brows.

"It seems you are changing your mind just so you get your way with this precipitous decision to join the army." Isobel snapped.

Matthew's eyes narrowed. "I must do my duty."

She turned to face her son. "I didn't just have my prayer answered only to have it snatched away by your need to get yourself killed hearing tunes of glory."

He felt gut punched by the pain in his mother's voice. "I…" He stammered. "I am not doing this out of some sense of jingoistic fervor. Robert might think so and I'll let him if it helps finesse the process of getting me a commission."

"Then why?" Isobel stopped pacing around their Manchester's home living room and sat down next to her son. "Why so fast? What does Lavinia think about it? There's plenty of civilian war work you can do." She knew better than to add anything about his potential relapse into blindness as that was already more than well known to him.

"I need to feel useful Mother. I've been blind for eleven years. Yes I've managed but now I can actually do something. Being at St. Dunstan's surrounded by those men who've given so much. I cannot stand by and take some desk job at the War Office to assuage my conscience that I've done my bit. I want to serve."

"Even against the doctor's advice? That's quite arrogant, Matthew. What if you put someone else in harm's way? Even with your eye's back there's still peripheral damage."

"It won't come to that. I will do this." He said with finality. "My own way."

"And Lavinia?" His mother redirected. "She'd agreed to marry a man who was not going off to war."

"That doesn't come into it." Matthew said through tight lips. "She understands my decision." He stood up and moved towards the window and stared out. He did not elaborate on the conversation he'd just had with his fiancée before departing on the morning train from London.

Both women were overreacting as far as he was concerned. It wasn't as if he'd be in the front lines. At least, not at the moment.

Isobel took the hint and retired to help organize the move to Crawley House. The conversation was over. Over the past few days Matthew had become increasingly short tempered. She knew this was an adjustment for all of them. Matthew most of all. She would do what he wanted.

Even if she realized how already a changed man he had become.

XX

The scenery on the train raced by making Matthew's eyes hurt. He wasn't used to it all yet. He bluffed along most days pretending the headaches weren't so bad. That the eye strain didn't make his head throb. Who was he to complain? He could see. And he was scared blind—irony acknowledged—by the idea of returning to the dark.

His mind raced as well. So many changes. Some he welcomed like this meeting with Colonel Reynolds and the chance to serve. To never have to suffer the humiliation of the Order of the White Feather again. Robert had given him a stipend upon that first meeting in the lawyer's office along with the offer of Crawley House. Hesitant at first to accept, he eventually came around and replaced his old battered suitcase with the new Gladstone bag. In ordinary times he would buy his mother and Lavinia new hats for Christmas presents, but this war was not just extraordinary but catastrophic. And it was not done to be frivolous anymore.

No family went unaffected by this war.

And he was to worsen it for them by his own departure. Even if it was to just a staff office job. They both thought he was being foolish. Lavinia did for sure, he was convinced. Letting his own whim put her life on hold. Maybe he was, but it was something he'd have to see through to the end.

Oddly they had never had such disagreements while he was blind. Here he had always thought life would get better, easier even if his eyesight returned. Instead it was more confusing, more complicated than he ever expected. He had to put aside any animosity towards Robert's decided ambivalence towards him as heir as now the man was kindness itself. It rankled for sure, but Matthew could see it from the older man's perspective. Those in the sighted world always thought of those without as fully incapable beings. Unable to grasp or understand the world around them for they could not see it.

Untrue of course. Lavinia was right in saying Matthew always got along as much as possible on his own. He'd carved out his own life while at school and later at St. Dunstan's. He'd miss his fencing sessions with Joseph and their late-night philosophical talks.

He never thought he'd ever say that.

Now he was obliged to seek out Robert's favour as well as the North Riding's colonel. He would be at Robert's beck and call from now on. Learning about estate finances. Tenant rights. Social protocols. How does one address an earl versus a duke anyway? Would the eldest daughter of such an earl ever see a lowly middle-class relation as an equal? Would her father even allow it?

It was a good thing he was sticking to his own rank in choosing a wife.

Even in the midst of world war and mind-altering changes, the aristocracy floated along as if all was as it should be.

It was a steep learning curve indeed for him. Matthew straightened his tie and determined not to let his disorientation show to Colonel Reynolds.

The next stop was York Station.

XX

Mary walked towards the stable yard. It always made her feel better. The smells, the sounds of hoofbeats.

Maybe it would improve her mood.

The stable was empty of course. It echoed her footfalls.

Diamond and the other horses requisitioned for war service.

And it only made her sadder.

She walked on.

Nothing was staying the same. Except for her. Here she was, once again, meant to woo the man sitting next to her at dinner. Her father had made it clear to her that she could perhaps use her charms to encourage feelings in the new heir.

Robert had become quite fond of Matthew ever since learning of the return of his eyesight.

And Matthew responded. Of course he would. He was getting what he wanted. Matthew was to visit today after going with Robert to the North Riding regimental headquarters in York to meet Colonel Reynolds. Her father said they'd then return to tea where he hoped Mary would entertain him especially well. Once that was accomplished it seemed Robert had gotten into his head the idea that Matthew would realize his entire future was at Downton and would gently let the girl from London down and begin to turn his favour towards Mary.

"Her name is Lavinia! What must he do to persuade you he's in love with her? Open his chest and carve her name on his heart?" Mary had sounded off to her father before storming out the door and making her way towards the now empty stables.

Mary hated being told what to do by her father.

It made her perversely on the side of Lavinia and Matthew. Just to frustrate her father's will.

Even as she was fighting her own attraction to the heir. She'd be damned if she'd let on.

This Christmas show Sybil was putting on had been the perfect opportunity to invite Evelyn Napier back for dinner. And this time he was bringing a friend, another naval officer. A Charles Blake. A very good singer, Evelyn had said. Maybe Mary would have a companion for the sing a long she promised for the event. Edith had invited Lord Anthony Strallan for the late dinner, why couldn't she?

They ever played such games with each other.

She liked Lavinia. They had chatted while the men were at their cigars. Mary gently probing to assuage her curiosity about Matthew's fiancée. Lavinia was kind and intelligent. She had seen them interact at the party where Matthew's eyesight had returned. She couldn't help herself, watching as Matthew touched her shoulder and she turned around.

They had smiled. Hugged.

Lavinia's eyes had watered with happiness.

Mary had felt an interloper into their private moment and turned away.

Only to see Matthew's eyes meet hers across the crowded space.

Was she wrong in what she saw in those newly sighted eyes? An attraction that pulled her in like nothing else she had ever experienced?

How on earth was she to upend her father's expectations when she herself was so at sea about the new heir?

Mary moved back towards the house. Enough self-indulgence. She had promised her mother to help her with scheduling the nursing roster and rationing cards. She had found she had an unexpected interest in the hospital work. Not the medical end like Sybil, but in learning how to run an efficient operation. If she was ever to be a part of running Downton in the future, she'd have to learn far more than any of her governesses had ever taught. Knitting and painting just wouldn't cut it in the modern world.

XX

"Sybil darling don't you think it's too much?" Edith walked around the salon. There were garlands of holly and berries everywhere. Ribbons tying up evergreen in bows. Decorated mantlepieces with candles. Wreaths of boxwood. "We do have a lot of wounded men."

"Dr. Clarkson agreed that some of the more fit men could help gather some evergreens around from the estate. They had a grand time." Sybil was very pleased with how everything was coming together. "We made sure the ones with conditions that required more quiet have been moved upstairs."

"Captain Smalley wants to know if he can do some of his magic tricks. He'll need some assistance because of his hand but it's the first time he's wanted to participate in any activity." Edith followed Sybil into the library which had been rearranged to fit chairs and the piano.

"That's wonderful." Sybil said. "It's just what we wanted."

They walked to the front of the makeshift staging area. "Lt. Pierce will read the Christmas passages from St. Luke and then we'll start the tableau…."

"Does Papa know you're going to participate? In trousers!?" Edith started to giggle.

"You should talk. Didn't you do same with working on that farm? Why did that stop anyway?" Sybil digged at her sister.

Edith's face turned sour. "Never you mind."

"In any event we're going to do tales through the ages and there aren't enough able-bodied men to stand for so long." Sybil had the answer ready at hand.

"Sure sure…" Edith chided jokingly. "And you just happened to make sure the chauffeur played the King Rat while you are Dick Whittington. He'll have to place money in your pocket while everyone is under a spell."

Sybil sniffed, "It's just a tableau. We'll stand still for a few seconds while Nurse Bedford reads a passage from the tale and it will all be over."

"And you can spend a few more minutes in Tom Branson's company."

"I didn't even know you knew his name. You and Mary are just the same. The servants are just our employees doing our bidding."

"Mary and I agree on very little, darling. But we agree on making sure our sister does not make a very wrong decision."

"We're not running off the Gretna Green for goodness sake." Sybil snapped. "At least not yet!"

Edith turned in shock.

Sybil smirked in triumph at her sister's discomfit. "Can we continue?"

Edith sat down at the upright piano. "What other stories are you doing?"

"We only have enough people for three so in addition to Dick Whittington we're doing Cinderella and A Christmas Carol. A kind of transformations theme. And out of the dark and into the light of day. To boost the soldiers' spirits about overcoming their conditions."

"Oh that's very thoughtful. You are quite clever at all this. I wish I had your talent. I seem to drift from one thing to another." Edith idly hit some of the piano keys to make sure it was in tune.

"Edith." Sybil leaned down, "You have talents that none of us have. You're organizing the daily recreation needs of the men. Writing letters home. It's doing nothing that's the enemy. For you and for them."

The two sisters hugged. "Where is Mary?" Edith asked. "We should at least run through one practice."

"I don't know. Last I saw she was mooning about the salon pretending she's not waiting for Captain Napier to arrive with his new friend. I think they went to school together or something. He's in the Navy and participated in the battle of Jutland."

"Mary and her men…" Edith rolled her eyes. "I'm glad I invited Major Strallan so I won't have to feel like one of those unable to get a partner at the ball."

"I get the impression she doesn't like any of them. More that she's using them to feel something." Sybil reflected.

"Did you see how she kept glancing at Cousin Matthew during dinner and later when the men returned from their cigars? And his own darted over to hers when he thought no one was looking?" Edith pulled out some sheet music. "Now that his eyesight has returned it seems they can't keep their eyes off each other."

"Really?" Sybil drew out the syllable of the word. "Poor Lavinia in that case. If Mary's serious about him no other woman stands a chance."

"Who knows what she thinks. Matthew is very sensible and will want a wife who'll be willing to care for him if his affliction returns. I'm not at all sure that person is Mary."

Sybil wanted to oppose Edith's opinion. But as much as she loved her eldest sister she had to admit charity towards others and putting someone else ahead of her own needs were not her best qualities.

"Here she comes now." Edith was relieved. "Maybe we can get that practice in."

Sybil let the conversation drop and moved on to help choose the costumes for Cinderella with nurse Phyllis Raskin who had volunteered to take on the part.

XX

Matthew was pleased. Colonel Reynolds had been a gruff old bird but eager to accept Matthew's volunteering for the North Riding. He was to start OTC at Grantham the week following the new year. No guarantees as to what type of work he'd be doing, but it would most likely start at HQ in some kind of staff work.

All was agreed to with a handshake and Matthew followed Robert out the door to the waiting car. The chauffeur, a young man around his own age opened the door and then walked around to the driving seat. Robert sat down and Matthew beside him. They were to be driven back to Downton and have tea with the family.

"My daughters have planned a concert or show of some kind for the evening's entertainment so you might be dragged in to aid the effort."

Matthew smiled. "I'd love to. Get in the spirit of the season. I will have to get the train later in the evening as my mother is expecting me back in Manchester for my fiancée and her father's arrival for Christmas tomorrow morning."

Robert nodded. "Before the New Year you should go to my tailor in London to uniform you properly. I'll give you his name and telephone ahead to have him expect you." He gave his heir the once over. "You might also pick up a new set of plainclothes as well."

Matthew glanced down at his best suit. It was a bit worse for wear he supposed. He shifted uncomfortably. Would he be out of place at this event tonight?

Upon arriving at Downton Robert strode into the house. Matthew followed, noticing how the chauffeur lingered polishing the car while speaking to one of the nurses from the convalescent home. Wasn't that the youngest sister he thought as he walked through the door way.

Tea with the family also included the extended branch of the Granthams with the Dowager Countess in attendance as well as a few family friends. Evelyn Napier Matthew recognized, but the other man, flanking Mary's right side was unknown to him. Navy uniform the only giveaway.

Mary did the introductions. "Cousin Matthew come and meet Lt. Cmdr Charles Blake. He's going to join me later at Sybil's Christmas show. We're going to sing a couple of carols."

"Lovely." Matthew tried to smile. "Are you going to participate as well in the singing?" He turned to Evelyn.

"Oh no…" Napier laughed. "They drummed me out of 'Ring a Ring o'Roses' as a child. No one wants to hear me sing. I've volunteered to help backstage."

Sybil stepped in to say, "We do need a narrator for one of the tableaus Matthew. Would you be up for that?"

"Certainly." And no need to find him a Braille copy of any book. He could participate as any of them without attracting special attention.

"Excellent." And she was off to recruit more last-minute participants.

Matthew moved away from Mary's two friends and back towards the divan. His cousin was already seated beside her granny.

"Come and sit over here." The voice of Cousin Violet met his ears. "I'll pour."

Matthew sat down beside the matriarch and accepted the cup of tea she proffered.

"How are you settling in?" Violet asked. "Have you moved into Crawley House yet?"

"Mother will do so in the new year. I'm to go into officer training at Grantham at the same time." He couldn't help but sound pleased to tell the news."

"And here you've just been named heir as my granddaughter was once again pushed aside. It seems most unfair."

Matthew coughed uncomfortably.

"It is rather like that old Greek tale of Andromeda." Mary said mockingly, almost as if she was testing Matthew's mettle. "Her father was King Cepheus, whose country was being ravaged by storm. He decided the only way to appease the gods was to sacrifice his eldest daughter to a hideous sea monster. So, they chained her naked to a rock..."

Her granny gasped. "Really? Mary, we'll all need our smelling salts in a minute."

Matthew looked rather amused. He looked directly at Mary. "But the sea monster didn't get her, did he?" Was she really challenging him this way?

Sybil stopped trying to talk her mother into taking on the role of the evil step-mother to listen, mouth agape at the charged exchange between Mary and Matthew.

Mary raised an eyebrow. "No. Just when it seemed he was the only solution to her father's problems, she was rescued…"

"By Perseus." Matthew couldn't help but show his knowledge of Greek mythology.

"That's right. Perseus, son of a god. Rather more fitting, wouldn't you say?" Mary finished. She had wanted to upstage him and put him off any belief he could just walk in and take what she believed was rightfully hers without any kind of fight on her side. But she also knew, as depressing as it was, that she was at the mercy of the male line of the family. God or no.

Matthew rejoined, "That depends. I'd have to know more about the princess and the sea monster in question. Maybe they just need to get to know each other a bit better."

Mary darted her eyes towards Matthew's at his response. Were they actually flirting in front of the entire family?

"What does that mean really?" Violet picked up on Matthew's point. "What would you say if the entail was set aside in Mary's favour?"

"I don't wish to benefit at Mary's expense. I should try to accept it with as good a grace as I could muster." Matthew's answer was ready on his lips. He had thought long and hard about it and that was his truthful response.

Mary had no quick retort to that. It was the honest truth and it was something she wasn't used to. But no sooner had that sunk in than Sybil made the announcement that the show was to begin in five minutes and would everyone take their places.

Matthew rose and extended his arm to Cousin Violet to help her into the library. Mary left with Charles to find Edith and go over some last-minute issues over which carols and songs were to be sung.

Some of the soldiers did biblical readings. Other did some skits and magic tricks.

And then Mary and Blake took their positions near Edith.

They did make a fine couple Matthew had to darkly admit. Blake's light tenor voice that complemented Mary's soprano as they sang Silent Night.

A suggestion from the audience sent Edith looking through some sheet music. She found "The Bing Boys are Here" and started in, handing a copy to Mary and Charles.

" _Sometimes when I feel bad_ _  
_ _and things look blue_ _  
_ _I wish a girl I had... say one like you….._

Charles started and Mary joined in

 _If you were the only girl in the world_ _  
_ _and I were the only boy_ _…"_

Matthew stood at the back and listened. He tried to withstand the wave of jealousy that flooded his body. What was coming over him?

Then another soldier asked that Mary sing a hit from 1910 that was still popular in the war.

She looked over Edith's shoulder, whispered something and her sister nodded, and started in with the chorus

 _Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you_ _  
_ _Let me hear you whisper that you love me too_ _  
_ _Keep the love-light glowing in your eyes so true_ _  
_ _Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you…"_

She waved her arms so that everyone then joined in with her…And her eyes swept over the crowd to land on Matthew's. She was looking deliberately for him he thought. He shivered as he too started in to finish with a catch in his throat, _Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.."_

Mary finished and quickly left her position by the piano so they could rearrange for the tableaus.

He had barely time to recover when he was tapped on the shoulder by a nurse who guided him to the makeshift backstage to get ready for his own part in the show.

He was handed a copy of A Christmas Carol in red with the lettering scrolled on the front cover. Was this a first edition Matthew wondered as he delicately opened the book to peruse the part he was to read out. He loved Dickens and was again excited to be able to read the words for himself.

He settled into the chair by the temporary stage. He'd have a spotlight to help him read in the semi darkness as the players took to the stage and stood still. Little Tiny Tim in the form of one of the younger kitchen boys and his parents who had been brought in from Downton Village to be the Cratchits. How she did it no one knew but Sybil had managed to persuade the butler to participate. Carson stood in all his 6'2" form standing at the fireplace lifting little Tiny Tim aloft as everyone cheered.

Matthew started in with a warm, appealing baritone

" _Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these_

Matthew knew more than most the truth of these next words he plunged on trying not to get too emotional; his voice deepened though as he came to end…

 _would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him. He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge._

Matthew looked up so that everyone could join in with him as he said the last lines:

 _May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!_

A cheer went up as Matthew gently closed the book.

Edith returned to the piano so that everyone could sing the last joyful Christmas tune _God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman_. She then directed everyone to some sideboards where Mrs. Patmore and made mince pies and other desserts along with some coffee and mulled wines.

Matthew let some of Dickens' words settle inside his soul. He wanted his own heart to laugh. And to be joyful at his own miracle. He had been rather sour of late towards his mother and Lavinia. Letting his own needs and ambitions take precedence. He intended to change that as of tomorrow. He looked forward to being with his family.

He stood up only to hear a loud "Good God!" emanate from an older man's lips. He didn't know who it was but it struck him as so funnily said, along with his scrunched up face as he seemed to ingest one of Mrs. Patmore's desserts and it had not gone down well. He spit out the contents into a linen napkin.

Mary stopped as she walked towards him. Both looked over to see Carson leap into action and remove the offending plate. Edith also took an interest in making sure the gentleman recovered.

Mary and Matthew looked at each other and started to laugh. A hearty, merry laugh just between the two of them.

Noticing they were attracting an audience they slipped out into the hall near the salon.

Matthew had tried to hide his grin behind a linen but let it go when they were alone. They leaned into each other's shoulder as the wave of mirth subsided.

Mary recovered first. But then she said in a perfect imitation, "Good God!" and that sent them off again into a fit of laughter.

Finally Matthew wiped his eyes and pulled out his watch. "I've got to go if I'm going to get to the train on time." His face was still red cheeked from the bout of giggles.

"Carson's busy so I'll walk you to the door." Mary said. "Thank you for not having me be the only one to find that enormously amusing."

"I hope we did not embarrass him." Matthew retrieved his overcoat and opened the door.

"Edith will comfort him I'm sure." Mary riposted. "He's just an old family friend but she's taken a special liking to him."

It was starting to snow. A soft, silent snow that made the lawn glow white illuminating the landscape.

Matthew paused to look. He had not seen snow since he was eleven years old. He blinked several times.

"Did you really mean that?" Mary asked, trying to be casual. "About what you said on the entail. That you'd give it up."

He turned. "Yes. I would. It's unfair on you." His breath could be seen in the brisk air as he answered.

"Then that must be my consolation prize." Mary held out her hand. "Or Christmas present." She smiled.

He took it, a shiver moving up his spine. Her face, soft in the winter light. came into focus. Her lips…the ones he had touched just a few months ago in a bold move that had so unnerved the two of them.

Mary looked up to see the snow and said, "Sybil." She grinned and pointed at the door frame.

Matthew looked as well.

Mistletoe hung in a bundle of ribbon.

They paused.

Looked at one another.

Matthew moved one step towards her, his foot crunched in the snow.

Would they?

Could they?

Mary did not let go of his hand. She pulled him slightly towards her.

Their lips met in a soft kiss.

A world of two.

"Happy Christmas Mary." Matthew stepped back. Giddy. Hardly knowing where he was.

"Such good luck." Mary responded. "I hope you find what you want in the army."

He doffed his hat and turned away from her. He had to turn away from her. This was all a dream. Downton. Mary. This life of luxury and wealth.

He had the real world to contend with now. And his real life fiancée awaited him in Manchester. What had he done?

Mary watched him as he walked away. When he disappeared into the distance, she abruptly sensed the night's chill wind and moved to closed the door.

She heard the family begin to say their good-nights to the gathered friends and loved ones. She felt alone, without Matthew's hand on her. His lips. She blamed her allowing such forwardness on the Christmas season. The mistletoe hung so mischievously by Sybil. This man was not hers. He belonged elsewhere.

Their moment of sweet privacy a mere peculiarity of the season.

A Christmas secret for just the two of them.

XX

 _Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone! They might think it's just a Christmas thing, but consequences of this night will of course haunt our MM for a long time to come. Hope you stick around to find out how! Careful readers (ahem classicwom ) will notice I pinched one line from a movie about running lol._


	7. Chapter 7

_A few weeks after Christmas_

 _Late January 1917_

XX

"Matthew what is the matter? You're so distant. Are you worried about starting your course?" Lavinia laid a pensive gaze upon her intended. They finally had a day away together and all he could do is absentmindedly sip tea and gaze out the window.

He looked fine in his khaki uniform, she had to admit. His cap was on the chair next to their table.

Lavinia knew to expect alterations in Matthew. Not just the return of his eyesight but all the changes that came with it and his decision to join up. He had just returned from his three-week OTC and was now about to start the Staff War College at Camberley to train in administrative logistics prior to being posted with the BEF third formation as a general staff officer grade 2. He would then be seconded back to the North Ridings in their training camp at Grantham.

But he came back changed.

Was it just the distance and new responsibilities? Or was it something else? She wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry." Matthew replied, showing he had heard her. He snapped out of his reverie. It was not fair to Lavinia. They saw so little of each other anymore. "More tea?" He held out the pot for the waitress to take away. He furrowed his brow. "How's Reggie? You said in your last letter he was feeling poorly again."

Lavinia nodded. "Yes. He had a bout of pneumonia. He was treated at home rather than taking up a bed at the hospital but while he says he's recovering I am worried."

"He's lucky to have you to take care of him." Matthew said. "But make sure you don't work too hard."

Lavinia shrugged. "I wish I had more time to devote to some kind of war work. I feel quite out of step."

Matthew put his hand out. "You're doing what you need to do."

She decided to change the subject. Her father's health was quite a concern but one she did not want to inflict too much on Matthew.

"How did it go? Did you make any friends at the officer training?"

"Wasn't like that." Matthew tried to be nonchalant about it. "It was all marching and learning to shoot a pistol." He didn't want to worry Lavinia unduly by mentioning how many of his fellow inductees regarded his placement as special influence since he was not for the front lines but a behind the lines job at a training camp. Lots of muttering about him being one of General Strutt's special boys and snickering behind his back.

He did not want to let on about his eyes so he endured it. He was in the war now and it's what he wanted. He couldn't go back even if he wanted, which he most certainly did not.

"Before I set off for Camberley we've been invited to dinner at Downton. Mother's settled at Crawley House so we can all meet there and go over together. Mary said we'll be expected around 7pm on Friday. So that will be a bit of fun."

"Mary writes to you?" Lavinia asked casually. At least she tried to.

"Uh…" Matthew pursed his lips. "Oh…Just idle chat about events at the house now that it's a full convalescent home. Robert likes to keep me up to date." He thrummed his hand on the table nervously and changed the subject yet again. "I say, let's go for a walk shall we? Now that the sun's out."

He got up to pull back her chair.

"Lovely." Lavinia replied, accepting his arm. She kept to herself the thought it was very odd it wasn't Robert who wrote to his heir but rather his pretty eldest daughter.

XX

"Come in and let me introduce you." Mary walked towards the new guests. Isobel, Matthew and Lavinia entered and Mary met them in the center of the music room. Isobel moved towards the dowager countess and took a seat beside her.

A tall, blonde haired man followed in Mary's wake.

Not another one, Matthew thought. And this one must be twenty years older. At least he felt properly dressed for once. He had taken Robert up on his offer of getting a new tailored evening suit in addition to the khaki and mess kit uniforms he'd need in the army. The white collar was stiff and scratchy but he fit right in with the other men at the dinner.

"My cousin Lt. Matthew Crawley and his fiancée Miss Lavinia Swire." Mary turned quickly to introduce her guest. "This is Sir Richard Carlisle. He's a very important newspaper proprietor. We met at Cliveden during a week end last month."

Mary caught the edge of Matthew's dark glance. It was the first time they had seen each other since the kiss at Christmas. Mary wanted to think nothing of it. He was living his life, she her own. The kiss had been a kindness. He was off to his war training and they had overcome their past differences and she merely sought to part as friends. Their correspondence began only because her father wanted to know more details about Matthew's position in the army and they had sent a couple of friendly missives since.

It meant nothing of course. He might think differently, but that was not Mary's concern. Especially in front of his fiancée.

"How do you do." Matthew shook Carlisle's hand, his face impassive. He wasn't going to let his mixed emotions regarding Mary interfere with this evening's enjoyment for Lavinia. He was fighting it and he'd get over this infatuation soon enough. It was ridiculous he chided himself. And damned unfair to Lavinia.

He smiled as he stood aside for Lavinia to be introduced.

"I know Miss Swire." Carlisle's smooth tone somehow made the admission sound sinister.

That certainly unnerved Matthew. As it also clearly did Lavinia. "Yes." She said curtly. "My uncle and Sir Richard are old acquaintances."

"Business partners more like." Carlisle responded.

Lavinia gave a thin smile but said nothing. Matthew put a protective arm around her.

He heard Carlisle mutter to Mary as he glanced around looking for the butler, "So the fashion for cocktails before dinner hasn't reached Yorkshire?"

"I could get Carson to make you one, but I won't guarantee the result." She quipped back.

"I say I say," Matthew tutted. "The worst thing ever in the middle of the war. Not having cocktails before dinner." Matthew turned to Lavinia as they walked away. "Will he put it in his paper you think?"

He was rewarded with a chortle of laughter from Lavinia but a cool as ice deathly stare from Mary.

Matthew didn't care. He wasn't in the mood to be kind to yet another of Mary's suitors. He upset Lavinia and that was unforgivable in Matthew's book.

"Odious man." Lavinia said bitterly as they moved out of range of Sir Richard's ears.

Matthew turned a concerned eye. "What? Who is he to you really?"

"He tried to blackmail my father with financial ruin unless he told about his brother's involvement in the Marconi scandal of 1912."

Matthew's face blanched. "Blaggard! How contemptible." He spat out.

"It's what he does. Deal in lies and secrets." Lavinia's usually unruffled face broke. She fought back some tears.

"I'm sure Mary and the family doesn't know or she wouldn't have invited him." He furtively glanced back at Mary and Sir Richard who had moved on to talk to Cora and Sybil.

Lavinia regained her composure. "I gave him the information he wanted. My uncle was guilty so he got what he deserved. But that way my father was saved from ruin. Sir Richard still holds it against me. He thinks he might make use of it in the future."

"That was a very brave thing to do." Matthew never realized Lavinia held such a secret from him. He was truly astonished at her actions.

"Don't tell anyone. Least of all your cousin." Lavinia implored Matthew. "I'd hate for her to know of my family's scandal."

"Of course not. I would never do anything to harm your father. Or yourself." Matthew's eyes beetled back and forth in thought. As much as he intended to keep that promise he also wanted to warn Mary about her dangerous association. He owed her that much at least.

Dinner was announced and everyone made their way into the dining room. Seating was as usual with guests between family member so Matthew found himself seated in between Mary and the youngest sister Sybil. He peered around to make sure Lavinia was no where near Carlisle and was relieved that she was seated next to Cora and Edith. Carlisle was far across at the other end of the table.

"How are you finding the army Matthew?" Sybil asked.

"It's quite the change. But being at St. Dunstan's helped me get used to a more hectic schedule."

"I loved getting out and going to my nurses' training. So refreshing to be out of the confines of society and their rules."

"Oh really Syb," Mary drawled, "you make it sound like prison."

"Don't you say the same thing except you call it a waiting room." Sybil retorted. "And the only way out is to do as Papa instructs and marry the man next to you at dinner."

Matthew coughed awkwardly. Did Robert really want her to do that?

"Not now…" Mary warned. But Sybil was on her soapbox and there was no going back. She turned on Matthew. "We're all his pawns. And I hate to say but now that your sight has returned Papa has lots of plans for you. So you better watch out unless you want to get caught as well. I intend to make a break for freedom long before that. It's what the suffragette movement was all about. And now with the war it's even more urgent."

Mary groaned. She was not in the mood for Sybil's politicking.

"I admire the passion of your convictions." Matthew said. Mary threw him a glaring side eye. Was he flirting with her too? They were garnering some unwanted attention of some of the other dinner guests. Mary's restraint was thinning. Matthew didn't know about Sybil's infatuation with the chauffeur and she worried he would just spur her to further outbursts. "Don't encourage her Matthew," she muttered under her breath.

Sybil mimicked her sister under her breath.

Caught between the two contrary sisters Matthew decided to be diplomatic. "I agree that the war speeds up the need for change and society's restrictions seem more ludicrous than ever but I'm not sure violence or rash action is really the solution either."

"I suppose not." Sybil admitted reluctantly. "But I will never live my life the same way again."

Matthew moved on to converse about her nursing duties and they soon began an earnest conversation about how best to treat the gassed and blinded with Matthew relating some of the techniques used at St. Dunstan's and Sybil giving him rapt attention.

A little too close for Mary's comfort but she gave up and began to eat her soup. It was none of her business how Matthew conducted himself at the dinner table. She happened to glance over and see Lavinia scrutinizing all of them from across the table. As soon as Matthew's fiancé noticed Mary's gaze, she turned quickly away. Mary couldn't help but see her look of distress.

Maybe she agreed that Matthew was beyond the pale in giving his attentions only to Sybil at the table. But then he was middle class and didn't understand their rules. Sybil did know better, but one and all knew she was incorrigible.

After dinner and the men returning from their drinks and cigars conversation centered around change as well. Robert grumbling about not having anything to do in the war. Edith discussing how Downton has altered so drastically because of the incoming convalescents taking over more and more of the rooms.

Mary was tired of such gloomy thoughts. "Have you seen the boys' haircuts the women are wearing in Paris? I saw some in a magazine that were stunning."

"I hope you won't try that." The words escaping Matthew's lips before he could catch them.

"I might." Mary snapped back.

Everyone stopped their own conversations at that exchange. Now who was being unconventional Sybil's look told Mary.

"I'm not sure how feminine it is." Lavinia observed quickly, trying to cover for Matthew's faux pas. Why would he say something so personal?

"I'm not sure how feminine I am." Mary's cool rejoinder.

"Very, I hope." Richard confidently declared. "These new trends are tiresome and takes away from the mystery."

"Much more of this and I will need my smelling salts." Violet observed to her daughter in law from the corner. "Such racy talk wasn't allowed in my day."

"Times are changing. We will soon be left behind if we don't allow it." Cora said. She then saw Mary and Matthew standing near the piano. They seemed to having a rather intense conversation. "They look so natural together," she observed wistfully.

"Mary's newest beau…" Violet shook her head.

"Have you taken a dislike to him?"

"I don't dislike him. I don't know him well enough. But I just don't like him, which is quite different. He owns newspapers. How vulgar. If that's to be Mary's future I will despair."

Cora conceded, "Lavinia is a pleasant girl."

Violet was blunter. "A bit plain. Shy. I don't know she's quite right to be countess of Grantham."

"Well they were already engaged when we found out Matthew was heir and then there was the whole issue of his blindness…"

But she cut off her comments when Isobel approached.

"Thank you for this evening. But I think we will be retiring. Matthew has to be off in the morning for his staff course." Isobel informed, pretending she had not overheard the last bit of the conversation.

Lavinia hovered near the door way while Matthew continued to talk with Lady Mary and then he broke it off rather abruptly and turned on his heels to walk over to Lavinia. He took her arm and they departed out the music room door.

After saying her good-byes Isobel gave one last surreptitious peek at Lady Mary Crawley as she made her way out. She couldn't help but notice along with everyone else it seemed the attraction between her son and this young woman. His life had recently undergone so many changes. He had bought expensive tailored clothes, a new wristwatch, and other accoutrements a result of the stipend Robert was putting into his bank account. He had put off the wedding indefinitely. He had maneuvered his way into an army commission using his connections to the aristocracy.

And he spent an inordinate amount of time at Downton Abbey among this new family. Especially in the company of Mary Crawley. She remembered that he told her he had stopped by on his way back from York when he was accepted into the North Ridings. It had made his arrival in Manchester on Christmas Eve very late.

Was he now suffering a completely different type of blindness? Made up of thoughtless and reckless behaviour?

She worried, as any mother would. But she doubted there was anything she could do or say at this point. She had raised her son to be his own man. He'd have to learn his lessons the hard way. He believed he had the world at his feet now that his affliction was over. Such overconfidence was perilous. Look at Icarus. He flew too close to the sun and was drowned.

She collected her coat from Carson and met Matthew and Lavinia outside for the short car ride back to Crawley House.

Matthew was already boasting about how he intended to continue the driving lessons he started at the OTC and that very soon he'd drive them all wherever they wanted.

He seemed frustrated that neither his mother nor fiancee were suitably impressed.

The ride to Crawley House continued in silence.

XX

Matthew threw himself back against the train seat. He knew he shouldn't feel this way but he was glad to finally be on his way to Camberley and the War Staff College and away from his family.

Everyone either got on his nerves or were put off by his own behaviours.

His mother accused him of being selfish. Lavinia fretted about the distance between them as he took up his duties with the army. She hadn't been the same since their evening at Downton.

Everything had started there. He knew what he had done to upset both women.

Spending too much time in Lady Mary's company.

God she was intoxicating. He couldn't help himself. The pull towards her was magnetic. No matter how much he tried to resist he felt drawn to her. She was so enigmatic. One moment starchy and rude and the next accepting his kiss under the mistletoe. Why had he done that? He got caught up in the moment. It was Christmas. They had such a good time joking about salty pudding as she nicknamed the poor gentleman in her letters. It didn't mean anything he told himself.

The letter writing had begun innocently and he didn't think he needed to tell Lavinia for fear it might be misconstrued. They were friends. They knew where they stood with each other. He didn't stand a chance with her among all those other titled and rich men of her own class.

Matthew leaned his head against the back of the train compartment. He tried not to look outside at the moving countryside as that sometimes made his eyes hurt. He didn't tell that to the driving instructor at OTC for fear of being left out.

He never wanted to be left out of things again. His mind drifted back to the previous evening.

Mary was so very beautiful. He loved looking at her. He caught himself sneaking glimpses and then kicked himself for doing it. Lavinia was beautiful as well. And so very kind and loving towards him. Whereas Mary was all pinpricks and sharp edges. What game was she playing? Was this how she was with all her suitors? Even those who didn't intend to be.

Did he even want to be among her pack of suitors? To be chosen ahead of the others. The dark horse? The blind man who ended up winning it all? His mother would accuse him of hubris but a part of him didn't care. It was like a drug this idea of having the completely unattainable to him previously now within his grasp. And then he'd realize how unfair that was to Lavinia. He'd be a fool to give up a loving and supportive marriage for a woman who played with his emotions with such utter disregard.

He was continually at sea around Mary. He had managed to get her aside after dinner where he tried to warn her against Richard as vaguely as he dared without disclosing Lavinia's secret. It hadn't gone well. She got immediately miffed and said he was interfering where he wasn't wanted and haughtily walked away. He had been just as glad his mother wanted to leave soon after.

But nothing had gone right even then. Lavinia was distant. His mother troubled.

He had said his good-byes the following morning, gathered his things in the Gladstone bag, and walked to the train station from Crawley House.

Maybe London would be better. He was to have lunch with Joseph before getting his connection to Surrey and Camberley. His friend from St. Dunstan's was still teaching his fencing as well as taking on some of Matthew's previous duties of helping out with the families whose loved ones were there for rehabilitation.

Matthew didn't want to go to St. Dunstan's itself so they were to meet at the Red Lion pub which they had frequented when both lived in London. It wasn't that he didn't want to meet with the staff but there were too many reminders of his past. His blindness. Something he didn't want to think about.

The past was another country. He wanted to think only of the present. But as soon as he entered the pub he knew how hard that was going to be.

"Joseph." Matthew walked up to the table near the window. He used to love sitting by the window as well. A sudden memory pushed itself unwanted into Matthew's mind. Another pub another friend. And yet things were all reversed. Rather than being the one abandoned when his school friend left for training camp, this time Matthew was the one going while Joseph was the one left behind.

It rattled him for unknown reasons. Perhaps it was that Joseph was so content with his life while Matthew had been bitter.

"Matthew sit down. I've already ordered." Joseph pulled out a chair.

"How are things with you? Did you get my letter? I put it in an envelope addressed to matron so she'd know to read it to you." Matthew sat down. "I have to say I prefer our sessions of fencing over all that marching we did at the officer training. At least I could get my own back rather than submitting to the sergeant major barking orders in my ear."

Joseph laughed. "I remember hearing some of that in France. It seemed rather odd to be telling the soldiers to march with shoulders back when really they needed to learn how to duck and hide from incoming shells."

"And we have this ridiculously outdated manual we have to memorize. Something out of the Crimean War." Matthew shook his head. "I still have a great deal to learn."

"Sounds like you love it though. I was sorry to hear in the letter you've postponed the wedding."

Matthew shifted uncomfortably. "Yes I think it's for the best right now. Lavinia and I have a lot on our plates at the moment."

Joseph heard a certain distance in Matthew's tone regarding his fiancee. Not wishing to pry further, he changed the subject.

"How are your eyes holding up? Any further decrease in peripheral vision?"

"No." Matthew said shortly.

"Have you been to see the specialist again? He probably wants to keep tabs on you." Joseph pressed.

"No. I haven't had the time." Same curt response.

"You don't want to talk about it I'm gathering, but you do realize this might still be temporary." Joseph persisted because he felt he needed to warn his friend. "I think you need to be aware of that. It's like being given an unexpected roll at the dice and coming up a winner. But no one should count on gambling as a permanent thing. You might just as easily lose with the next roll."

Matthew tightly pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. "You sound like you want me to go blind again. Are you jealous?" And then he immediately regretted his words but it was too late.

"Far from it." Joseph replied unperturbed by Matthew's irritability. "Just boringly pragmatic. I have a full life no matter my visual circumstances. I wish you felt the same."

"Yes. I'm sorry for saying that about you. You've taught me so much about being blind. I know I've been lucky. But I'm not wanting to look back is all. This is my life now. I'm anxious to get on with things."

Joseph nodded. "A toast then." He held up his ale. "To getting on with things. I hope it all works out."

Matthew thanked him and drank down his pint. He didn't want to tell Joseph he had dreams about being blind. He didn't tell anyone about them. He'd think he was awake and open his eyes only to see nothing but shadows once more. It shook him to the core. He knew he had managed quite well blind. He could probably do so again.

He just didn't want to. He loved his life now. His future. An unbidden image of Mary conjured in his mind's eye.

So very beautiful.

She also haunted his dreams. And in those dreams he never wanted to be parted from her.

He was truly beginning to believe he loved her despite the fact he knew she did not reciprocate.

So it was doomed. He was best off leaving things as they were.

He shook hands with Joseph and made his way back to the train station and looked at the clock. He'd arrive at Camberley just in time to check in at the Staff College.

XX

 _I've always thought it unfair Matthew was never told about Lavinia's connection to Carlisle and how she managed to save her father's good name and money. So much canon Matthew wasn't told... Ugh_

 _well...we'll see if Matthew is right about Mary's affections in the next chapter! Please let me know if you like it! 😊_


	8. Chapter 8

_Summer 1917_

XX

"Mama we've received a letter from Isobel Crawley inquiring as to whether she could be of some use here. She was a nurse in the South African war and has some administrative experience as well." Mary sat at the desk in the corner of the small library where much of the day to day work of the convalescent home was organized. "She's finally gotten Crawley House under control with Mr. Molesley's help and now is looking for something else to do."

"Invite her to tea and we can discuss it. I'll have matron come as well. Sybil says she's understaffed so she might welcome the help." Cora looked up from the accounts book. "I didn't even know she had any kind of medical background."

"I'll telephone and invite her." Mary turned back to the correspondence.

"Did you know?" Cora tried to ask coyly.

Mary didn't catch on. "What?" She was still writing.

"Has Matthew told you anything about his mother?"

Mary bristled. "What do you mean?"

"Don't be evasive Mary," Cora finally gave up on trying to pull the information from her reluctant daughter and just asked direct. "I know you talk to him. Write to him. What does he say? He's still such a mystery."

Mary narrowed her eyes, "I hardly think he is that. And we don't write that much. You should ask his fiancée if you want to know more about him. Lavinia could come to tea as well as I believe she regularly visits his mother. I believe she's expected this week end. If so they could come together."

"Oh really?" Cora observed. "So how do you know she's coming if you don't write that much?"

Caught out Mary just groaned. "Oh Mama."

"Don't get hurt my dear." Cora turned serious.

Mary blanched slightly. "Why would you say that?"

"He's a very handsome, charming man and he clearly likes your company as much as you like his."

"But?"

"But he's not yours. And until he decides how best to extricate himself from his current betrothal he shouldn't spend so much time with you. It starts tongues wagging."

"Do you think he will?"

"Do you want him to?"

The unacknowledged truth inside her heart disconcerted Mary so she turned caustic. "You and Papa would probably want me to marry him. It would solve a lot of problems. Mostly how to get rid of me to a rich husband."

"What we want doesn't matter."

Mary scoffed. "Of course it does. Papa's asked me practically to throw myself at him. What I'd like to ask back is would you behave like King Cepheus to Andromeda with the sea monster? Am I to be sacrificed for your desires?"

"It's not all that matters." Cora had to concede. "Your father is so burdened by the legalities of the entail. He sees this as a way out."

"And I see it as manipulation. I will never marry someone I'm told to. Even for Papa."

"You will always be our 'Mary Mary quite contrary,' my dear." Her mother said lovingly using the old nickname from the nursery but Cora could see there was more to it than that. "But the real question is do you love him?"

At that Mary's mouth slightly trembled but she said nothing.

"Is that why you have brought in so many suitors? To diffuse the fact that you love Matthew?"

"I'm doing what's expected. Deciding which one is richest." Mary turned back to her work.

"Mary…"

She exhaled slowly and turned to her mother direct, her eyes pitiless. "I'm not in the habit of pining after a man who prefers someone else over me. And even if I was, it wouldn't be Matthew Crawley. He is far too full of himself. He tried to warn me off Sir Richard just because he didn't like the look of him. As if I would just obey. If he believes that he doesn't know me at all."

Cora gave up. Whenever Mary affected that to the manor born plummy voice she knew a barrier to her true self was erected and she'd get no more honesty. The little she heard was enough, nevertheless, to confirm her private suspicions that Mary was in love with the new heir. However much she pretended otherwise.

"I'm off to help matron calculate bedding needs when we open the upper floor to more convalescees. Telephone Mrs. Crawley and invite her to tea." She gave Mary an arched eyebrow, "and Lavinia. We really should get to know them better."

Mary's eyes narrowed to slits but she said nothing, continuing to write her letter to Lady Carstairs thanking her for the contribution to the Red Cross charity jumble sale that was being organized in the village.

Cora left Mary alone.

Mary then sat back against the hard seat, fitfully ticking her finger against the paper. She wouldn't give her mother the satisfaction that she had hit the nail on the head.

She was in love with Matthew and it surprised herself as much as anyone. She didn't even think she had a heart. And now to find she did. And to be in love with a man who didn't love her enough to choose her. It was intolerable so she determined to get over it. Either by allowing all sorts of suitors to pay court or throwing herself into this war work.

Life went on. Even with all the horrors of this world that for many in these very rooms at Downton that wish it wouldn't, life continued. It was both a harsh truth and a deep comfort.

A lesson learned from this war.

She'd just have to get on with things.

XX

"Matthew when is Lavinia expected?" Isobel took a seat on the settee in the morning room. Matthew was reading the paper in the corner chair.

He looked at his wristwatch. "She is to get in at 5:00 which will allow me plenty of time to speak to Robert and still get to the station to meet her train."

"What does Lord Grantham want? You only have a few days leave."

Matthew had finished the Staff College course and was five months into being the administrative officer at the training camp of the North Ridings'. He knew it was a job needing done and he did his best at it. But it was hell. He wanted to do so much more. It was unbearable the idea that all the men on the lists of trainees he processed would be sent to France. And most probably die. And all he did was then process a new list of trainees.

Pull out his typewriter. Write some names. Tick off those names against the lists that came from the regimental headquarters.

Send them to their deaths.

Do it again.

The monotonous horror of it kept him awake at night. Some of the other staff officers didn't even seem to notice. They got with their daily tasks and were glad they were out of the fighting. They'd take themselves off to the pubs and get a good nights sleep.

Matthew, if he slept at all, slept fitfully. He had wanted to get in the army. But he had not realized the burden of serving outside the lines was just a different kind of awful as those who were in the trenches.

He currently had a week end pass and was trying not to think about it.

"General Strutt wants to do a recruitment drive through Manchester and Yorkshire and since I know the area, I'm to accompany him as a kind of aide. Robert wants to know the details of the general's arrival schedule."

"This will be when you return to duty?"

"Yes." Matthew replied. He folded the paper.

"They've got a wonderful convalescent operation going at Downton now. So much more adequate to the task than we had in South Africa."

"Have you had the opportunity to help out as you wanted?"

Isobel nodded affirmatively. "Yes here and there. Cora doesn't like much interference in her domain. I tried to help reorganize the recreations of the men to give them more room but she wanted to keep the small library as Robert's sanctuary."

Matthew chuckled. "Yes. Robert is quite exasperated at not having more to do than cut ribbons and give patriotic speeches." He turned serious. "Glad I don't have to do that."

"Mary has quite the organized mind. She's very good at the detailed work of administration. Nothing gets past her. That surprised me."

Isobel deliberately kept her eyes on her son's reaction as she spoke about the eldest Crawley daughter.

Matthew's mouth curved into a soft smile. "That's nice to hear."

"Yes. I thought you'd like that as you seem to get a great deal of pleasure being in her company."

Matthew's face flushed red. He had been caught out and he knew it. But he didn't want to be drawn into a conversation with his mother about his feelings towards Mary. He knew he was being unfair to Lavinia if this infatuation continued. He didn't need his mother's remonstrations to tell him more. The truth was when he was with Lavinia they had a jolly time together. And she was so understanding and helpful when he was blind. She had accepted his hand in marriage when so afflicted. In his darker moments he wondered if she did so out of pity or a need to feel useful in life. It would help him out of this quandary if so. But that was only because he wanted to find an excuse to question her loyalty and her love.

For otherwise he'd hurt her for no reason other than he has fallen deeply in love with another woman.

But was he?

He knew so little about these things. Part of him wanted to postpone any decision until after the war. It seemed trivial somehow to think about something so personal in light of world events. And yet it was the most important thing in the world. For what else were the ordinary soldiers fighting for but to have done with it and come home to their loved ones.

For love is the most important thing when everything else was falling apart.

Matthew had never expected to feel so strongly for someone. His body ached to be near her. To touch her. He tried to tell himself it was ephemeral, such passionate emotions. It was also not to be trusted as the last time he had felt a tenth of this sexual arousal was in college when he had been discarded like an unwanted toy when it was found to be defective.

Would Mary do that if his circumstances changed again?

He had asked Lavinia to marry him in all good intentions but also with the knowledge he wasn't head over heels in love. But so what? Many times love grows in a good marriage. But it could also flounder and die in a marriage gone sour. And he wouldn't want to do that to Lavinia.

The result was a kind of strangled inaction. He was letting things play out as they would and that was fair to no one.

Something was going to have to give.

Matthew stayed silent after his mother's last barb.

Isobel pulled out two needles from a wicker basket. She was knitting comforters for the Red Cross. "We did have a very nice tea with the family about a fortnight ago when Lavinia came to stay. You had thought you could get leave but ended up having to remain at camp."

"Yes." Matthew remembered. He had gotten slogged by brigade headquarters demanding figures of all the men of each company of the regiment killed, wounded, or missing in action. It was depressing work and he had telephoned telling his mother he couldn't make it when it actuality it was rather that he didn't want to bring down everyone with his own funk.

"You're feeling more at home here?" He ventured.

Isobel had to concede, "A bit. The luncheon conversation generally centered around what we could all do to aid the hospital. Matron and I got on better as she had served at the General Hospital at Wynverg in 1900. Lady Mary took Lavinia on a tour of the house. They were gone about an hour."

"Really?" Matthew's eyes beetled back and forth anxious of what that meeting entailed.

"Don't worry." Isobel rejoined dryly, taking her son out of his misery. "they both survived the adventure intact."

XX

Matthew walked over to Downton later that afternoon to meet Robert. He enjoyed the walk across the cut through behind Crawley House and into the side gate of the Abbey, finding enormous pleasure in just looking around and taking in the landscape. Downton had a beautiful prospect down towards the lake and several small gardens surrounding the home. It was looking a bit worse for wear these days as many of the gardeners had been drafted or volunteered but it was, to Matthew's eyes, still beautiful in its semi-wild state.

He knew that part of this walk included the gravel path that he had taken while blind. He could now see the wall where he had sat and fallen asleep. It recalled all the memories of his first conversation with Mary and the feelings he had that day. Feelings he didn't understand and not to think much of as he never expected to see her again.

But then everything changed. The events of the past six months were heady and his mind was still catching up with it all.

Approaching the house he noticed Mary outside making her way towards the back of the gravel path. She must have heard his footfalls as she turned and started hurriedly walking towards him.

"Matthew." She hissed in a low voice. "Can you follow me?" She glanced around to see if anyone came out the front door and then started taking quick steps towards the area behind Downton. Matthew had never been here but found it was where the garage was located.

Mary walked inside, motioning Matthew to follow. He did so.

"What's going on?" He asked, never seeing Mary so agitated.

She walked around the garage, opening a door off to the right before accepting they were alone.

"Are you looking for someone?"

Mary peeked around his shoulder before speaking. "I don't want anyone knowing about this but Sybil's gone missing. Her door was locked and when Anna got the key to open it there was no one inside. The bed had clothes strewn about and the wardrobe had several missing dresses and shoes and there was a note on the mantle addressed to the family."

Matthew still looked confused.

"She's run away with the chauffeur." Mary spilled out her worst fears. "They've gone to Gretna Green."

Matthew started to laugh but quickly bit his lip to suppress it. Didn't things like that happen only in Jane Austen novels? He sobered in thought as he realized just how concerned Mary was. "What do you want to do about it?"

"No one can know. Papa would be apoplectic with rage. I need to bring her back before anyone realizes she's gone. Anna closed the room and said she'd say Sybil was ailing if anyone asked. It will only work as a ruse for a short time."

"So we have to find her?" Matthew's was now realizing his role. "You want me to drive."

Mary admitted, "Edith was supposed to teach me but she gets on my nerves so I kept putting it off. And she's in London doodling on her column." Her face was pale and etched with concern. This kind of scandal, especially if these runaways didn't marry would make the papers and ruin Sybil's reputation.

"Can you help?" She gripped his arm. "I don't know where else to turn. They've taken the touring car which Branson drove to and from the hospital."

So that left only the Rolls Royce. Matthew made a move towards the passenger door. "Get in. I'll start it up." He sat behind the steering wheel and made a series of maneuvers with various switches and gears. He was muttering under his breath the starting procedure he had learned while at OTC. But this was a much bigger and fancier car than the ones he had learned on. So when he heard the fuel pump start running and the engine turn over he breathed a sigh of relief.

He eased the clutch into gear and headed out around the house and down the gravel to the gate that led to the secondary road to Downton Village. There he intended to get on the main road to York and then the Great North Road to Scotland, estimating about a hundred miles to their destination.

Matthew turned to Mary. "Do you think they'll drive straight there? Or stop off?"

That was the very thing Mary feared. "It's a long way isn't it? To Scotland."

Matthew nodded, barely hearing her over the engine. Usually the passengers sat in the back but Mary was next to him in the front seat. "If they got a good start it's possible they'd arrive across the border by around 6pm. We will be much later." He knew that was news she didn't want to hear but it was the truth.

"They won't actually be able to marry anymore correct?" Mary said. "Didn't they change the law back in the last century?"

"They won't be able to marry legally unless at least one of them lives in Scotland for 21 days." Matthew answered. "But I heard a story from a Scots Guardsman at OTC of so called anvil ceremonies or handfasting where if you find two witnesses and someone to declare you wed if it be their wish you could be considered legally wed for purposes of finding lodgings or …" he paused hoping Mary understood what he meant, "… whatever."

At Mary's distressed look he quickly added, "…until a court could annul the ceremony. Especially as she's underage."

"But she's not." Mary glumly informed him. "She turned 21 last month."

Matthew gritted his teeth but said nothing.

Mary's eyes flashed. "Sybil needs to be made to see sense and return home with me before any of that is possible." Mary's fear was now turning to anger. "Silly girl! She's no idea what she's done."

Matthew's darted his eyes between the road and Mary. He didn't know what to say.

The journey passed in silence for a while, Matthew glad it was late June and the elements neither too hot nor too rainy. He was barely managing the car and didn't need inclement weather.

Mary tried to distract herself from her worst fears. "We had your mother and fiancée for tea a few weeks ago. Isobel is…ummm.. very keen to help out."

Matthew's mouth had to curl into a cheeky grin at that attempt at diplomacy. "My dear mother can be a bit much. She loves a bit of authority. Is she driving you all mad?"

Mary was glad he took that in good spirit. She wiped her finger softly across her lips, "no names no pack drill. We need all hands so we're very glad to have her."

Matthew laughed heartily which broke the previous gloomy mood.

"Lavinia is quite charming," Mary said, opening the topic that left Matthew with unease. He clamped his hands tight on the steering wheel. What could they have to talk about? Did Mary hone in on Lavinia's antipathy towards Carlisle and interrogate her?

"She's a lot like me…" Mary decided on continuing her previous tactfulness towards his closest relations. "so naturally I think she's rather perfect."

Matthew released his death grip. "That's good to hear."

"She did tell me something though in confidence. I think you know already as you tried to warn me off Sir Richard."

Matthew threw her a concerned look before returning his eyes to the road.

"She confessed about her connection to him. And how monstrous he was towards her family. She didn't feel right about knowing the information and not telling me." Mary recounted a condensed version of the long conversation she had with Lavinia as they toured the upstairs rooms. She had found Lavinia's sincerity to be her most endearing quality. And she believed every word of her accounting of Carlisle's strong hand tactics towards her father.

"So I apologize for dismissing your warning words. I thought you just didn't like him." Mary turned to see Matthew's mouth twitch.

He gave her a side eye. "I don't much," Matthew admitted. "Pompous and conniving. Not a great combination."

"No." Mary agreed. "I won't be inviting him again to Downton."

Matthew more than approved of that decision.

They were about to cross the border into Dumfries and the River Esk. Gretna Green was just beyond.

"Would they stay overnight at an inn?"

Mary tried to stay her trembling hand. "Let's look for the car."

Matthew nodded. Though it was getting on to midsummer and the sky was still dimly lit, it was cloudy and difficult to see. They drove around the outskirts of the village with Matthew flashing the headlights to scan the streets and car parks for the Ford touring car.

After a few moments Mary called out, "That's the car."

Matthew pulled into one of the inn's gravel lot's space. They both stayed in the car to collect their thoughts. Matthew believed he should remain in the car and let Mary handle the situation with her sister. It really wasn't his place to accompany her.

Mary opened the door. "I'll be down with her shortly," said with clear purpose. She entered the inn asking the woman at the desk for the room number of her sister, hoping they hadn't used aliases.

"Oh the lass is up the stairs to the left. She and her husband came in earlier this evening."

Mary walked up the steps, her feet feeling like they were walking in clay. Was she too late? Married already? But not really as they could not be under law. What had they done?

Mary knocked on the door but didn't wait to hear a response. She needed to know the worst.

She saw Sybil in the bed, dressed thank God. Branson in a chair nearby.

"How did you know where to find us?" Branson said first.

Mary ignored him. "Come with me Sybil. Before anything happens."

"What do you mean?" Sybil gripped Tom's hand. "We're going to marry and you can't stop us. I'm 21 and Tom's agreed to stay with me until we can legally wed. I don't want to go home and you can't make me."

Tom stood firm beside her.

"This is not the way Sybil dear." Mary tried to placate her sister rather than attack. "Mama and Papa will hate and not support this marriage at all if you continue on this path."

"They will never give their support to Tom. We will live in Ireland after the war ends."

"When the war ends more like. How do you even know when that will be? Come home and take your stand. Refuse to budge and allow them time to get used to it. You don't want to live a life under a shadow."

Branson snorted, "She doesn't mean that. She just wants to get you home again."

Sybil looked from one to the other.

"This is mad!" Mary was near the end of her patience. "Do you want to look like thieves in the night? Skulking around and lying to innkeepers?"

Branson felt Sybil's hand drop. Her resolve was waning. They looked at each other. Tom touched her cheek. "I understand. Go back with her then."

"They've not won you know," Sybil tried to restore Tom's confidence. "I don't like deceiving Mama and Papa. I will stay true to you but I do want to do this in the clear light of day."

Mary began to collect Sybil's bag. Her sister kissed Tom's cheek and left the room. She didn't look back.

"I'll return the car in the morning."

"Thank you." Mary gave him a cold glare and turned towards the door.

Mary exited and followed Sybil downstairs. She was shaken by these events but more secure in belief that they had escaped the worst of any scandal as the two runaways clearly had not consummated any kind of physical relationship. At least they had that much sense about them.

She met Sybil at the door. "The car is over there," putting the bag down. Mary opened the rear passenger door and Sybil got inside. Matthew walked around to pick the bag up and put it in the front seat as Mary got inside next to her sister. He returned to the driver's side and started the car up, crunching the double clutch a couple of times, but then got it underway.

There was little conversation on the return journey, Matthew leaving the two sisters to their own privacy as he wended their way back into England and on the way back to Downton. By his estimate they'd return on or around midnight. The house would be either in a total uproar or in complete darkness depending upon whether the family had clocked their disappearance.

Was luck with them? Matthew wondered as he approached the house. It was dark. Maybe she was going to get away with it?

Matthew stayed inside the car as Mary got out with her sister. To Matthew's surprise Sybil stealthily made her way around the side of the house and disappeared.

Mary got inside the front passenger seat.

"What's going on? Where's she going?"

Mary threw up her hands in a kind of surrender. "She insists she can make her way to her room using the backstairs. Says she does it all the time." She shrugged. "We might as well let her try. Maybe they won't even notice. I will not follow her up the servant's stairs however, so once we put the car back I'll just go in the front door. Anna will have made up an excuse that I was at some kind of charity function should anyone wonder."

Matthew chortled, "sound like you Crawley girls are always giving your parents the slip."

"Hardly. I'm not half as adventurous as Sybil. I'm far too aware of what other people think."

They were still sitting in the car even after Matthew had parked it inside the garage.

"I wish I could have Mrs. Patmore make you some sandwiches or something after what I've put you through." Mary started to open her door to get out. Matthew had already started walking around the car to hold his hand out to help her down. "Don't worry about it. I should be getting back."

"Thank you for helping me rescue Sybil."

"I hope I did my duty. She shouldn't have to suffer scandal just because she's young."

"I had thought after that dinner where you and Sybil were so intent that she had a crush on you."

Matthew laughed lightly, "that's something no one could accuse you of."

"Oh, I don't know." Mary inched closer towards him. "I did let you kiss me."

"True," Matthew's voice turned dark and silky. "There was that. But there's also all the choice remarks you made about me the first time I was in your presence. You didn't think I could hear, I assume, as well as see but I did hear them. They live in my memory as fresh as the day they were spoken."

Mary bit the side of her mouth. Oh if she could only take all those horrible things back. She regarded the man before her. She had so underestimated him. Misjudged him. He was kind and honorable. Smart and funny. "You must pay no attention to the things I say."

They regarded each other intently. Matthew's breath was heavy.

Matthew swallowed and moved closer. He reached down to take Mary's lips onto his own. Mary's response was to melt into his lips and mold her body to his. Their arms entwined, Matthew's encircling her waist.

The kiss went on and on. Matthew's unconscious mind took over as his tongue felt it's way into her mouth. He was going completely on instinct. On need. The need to succumb to what he felt for Mary. Passion. Lust. Whatever it was, it needed slaking. His mouth slipped along her cheek, kissing her soft skin, as he whispered, "oh Mary." His hands were shaking even as they roamed the curvature of her back.

Mary felt her body give way to him. His lips were slightly chapped giving his kiss a harder feel at first and then as their tongues investigated each other's mouth they softened. It was the most improper thing she had ever done. And she never wanted it to end.

But it did end. Matthew's cheek slid against her cheek, her jaw, tracing his lips back towards her ear. She felt his hot breath.

Matthew reluctantly let go.

"I should get back." Mary stepped away.

Neither knowing quite what to do, they started walking towards the house. The darkness hiding their true feelings from being seen on the other's face.

As their footfalls echoed on the gravel drive, Matthew stopped suddenly. "Oh my God. I had to meet Lavinia's train this afternoon." His hand went to his face. "I hadn't even thought what to tell about my absence."

Mary reached out to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He turned in the semi-darkness, the moon giving a hint finally of the mixed emotions etched on Mary's face.

What had they done?

"I've got to go." Matthew said, not really know what he was saying, he just knew this was wrong. "I should leave…"

Mary nodded.

They moved together, drawn back into each other's orbit for one final kiss.

Matthew's lips lingered. Her lips were so soft, so lovely. He felt never more alive…

"Matthew..?" A woman's voice asked from the doorway of Downton. "Is that you?"

Lavinia stepped forward to see who was standing on the gravel path, trying not to believe what she thought she just saw.

XX  
 _Consequences to follow…_ _some maybe not what you're thinking._


	9. Chapter 9

XX

Carson appeared beside Lavinia in the doorframe and she pulled back, saying nothing more.

Mary and Matthew furtively glanced at the other and then with Mary in the lead they walked towards the house.

Carson allowed Lady Mary inside first and then followed her towards the small library. Low voices and some snoring echoing from the convalescent wards. A couple of nurses were looking at a chart in the salon.

It always shocked her when she returned to Downton, Mary thought. The house was no longer their own.

Matthew followed with Lavinia by his side. "What are you doing here?" was the only thing he could think to say. He was completely blindsided by his fiancée's appearance. The house had been dark. He assumed Mary's family asleep and his own at Crawley House.

Well that was a mistake.

"Your mother was worried about you when you didn't arrive at the train station…." Lavinia said.

Matthew's eyes closed. "I'm sorry…"

"I waited a bit and then walked to Crawley House which isn't really that far. Isobel had no idea why you were so long at Downton. and we waited some more. Isobel telephoned Downton and found you had not arrived. They were in an uproar as Robert went order the car and found both missing."

Matthew's fingers kneaded the bridge of his nose.

Lavinia continued, "we were invited over to pool our knowledge on what might be going on and so we walked over in the midsummer twilight. I don't think any of us expected to wait so long."

If there was any hint of recrimination in that comment Matthew struggled to hear it. Lavinia was being exceedingly diplomatic. He was left baffled as to what exactly she had seen between himself and Mary. And there was no time to inquire as they walked through the doorway of the library Robert was in full fury.

"How dare you?! How dare you disobey me in this way! Your mother and I were worried sick. I specifically warned you against any further friendship with Branson. He's the chauffeur and most probably an anarchist. If I have to I will choose your husband…"

"Oh no you won't!" Sybil sat, her fingers cupped tightly together, on the settee. "Papa, I'm sorry I disobeyed you but Branson is nothing of the sort. He's political of course. We all need to be these days. He's opened my eyes to many things…"

"Oh Good Lord. He leaves as soon as he returns the car." Robert's face reddened in infuriation. "If he indeed returns it at all."

"How dare you. Tom is not a thief. If you punish him I'll run away again. I warn you. Then you'll be sorry."

"Of course I should be sorry. For you." Robert fumed. "But as for that socialist…"

Obviously, Matthew quickly assessed, Sybil did not make it up the servant's stairs unnoticed.

"They did come to the proper decision Papa." Mary tried to defend Sybil. "She came home."

"After disrupting everything. Causing you and Matthew to go off in search of them in such a rush that his own family didn't know his whereabouts. Who knows what could have happened."

"But nothing did." Sybil rebutted. "And Tom will bring back the car in the morning. I will wait, but when the war is over we will marry."

Matthew wasn't sure how long this family crisis was going to play out and quite frankly he was exhausted. This was not his drama. His was yet to come as he figured out what the hell to do about his failing relationship with Lavinia.

She does not deserve being deceived or trifled with.

Matthew motioned to his mother and she met them at the doorway to the library. "I think it best we leave them to figure this all out."

Isobel agreed. "I'm glad you got them both back in one piece. You've done your duty."

Matthew and Lavinia exchanged charged looks. He said quickly, "I'm very sorry I didn't meet you. Mary needed someone to drive her very quickly to Scotland in search of the runaways and she didn't want to tell her parents in hopes we could get Sybil back without anyone knowing."

"It's a shame they were found out." Lavinia said much to Matthew's astonishment. "It's very romantic. People should marry for love."

Matthew's mouth fell open, but nothing came out. He silently followed behind the two women as they all exited the big house.

XX

Mary cradled Sybil in her arms. They were in her bedroom cuddled on the bed. Mary sensed her sister did not want to be left alone this night.

"I feel like I let him down." Sybil said in misery. "I agreed to go and then backed away."

"He should never have put you in that position."

"I may have encouraged him…" Sybil admitted. "I wanted to move ahead with my life. The war had made it obvious that life is precious. I want to travel. To experience things. Tom wants the same. We can do it together."

"You can do all of that darling," Mary soothed. "But in the proper time."

"Were you serious?" Sybil sat up to see her sister's eyes. "What you said in Scotland that you will support me. Support us?"

Mary swallowed hard. "It's not as easy as you think, Sybil dear. This isn't fairy land where Papa will just have him to tea and all will be well. You were going to run away. Get married without their good wishes. Abandon the family potentially and make yourselves outcasts to society."

"I don't care about what they think."

Mary scoffed, "you say that now. But when you are older…."

"No!" Sybil was adamant. "That's just the thing. The world's changing. You know it is. You feel it too. That's why you had Sir Richard here. A few years ago he wouldn't have been acceptable, now he is. In a few years more who knows what's possible."

Mary confessed, "I also know that men like that are dangerous. They're powerful and don't care how they get what they want. That kind of ruthlessness leads to secrecy and deceit."

"Tom's not like that."

"He might have to be to survive in this new world you're talking about."

Sybil cuddled closer. "For right now we're both safe and we can hope Papa's fury will subside eventually. Tom didn't want to stay as chauffeur anyway."

"I don't understand why he's not been called up? Didn't he have his medical the other week?"

"He's got a heart murmur." Sybil informed. "So he won't get put in the draft to France. Like Matthew, he's been listed category C. He's very frustrated about events in Ireland, considered volunteering as a conscientious objector. He had an uncle get killed in that horrible mess last year. I can't say I understand it all, but I want to."

Mary's grip on her sister's shoulder intensified, "We can't shelter you anymore. You're all grown up, my baby sister…."

They held each other tight, tears curving down their cheeks.

"I've seen so much suffering this past year. The nursing has shown me we can't expect to wait for any happiness. We have to grasp it wherever it is. Like you and Matthew. Why don't the two of you just admit to what's in front of your faces?"

"What?" Mary stiffened. "What do you mean?"

Sybil rolled her eyes. "You're in love."

Mary didn't know what to say for once in her life.

"I have said it before. The way you two look at each other. And now tonight Matthew's running off with you at a moment's notice, not stopping to even telephone his mother or fiancée. For what? To help me? No…" Sybil pooh-poohed. "Not for me. For you. He loves you."

"How do you know?"

"Matthew would walk over hot coals for you if asked. He must tell Lavinia very soon before something happens."

Mary frowned.

"What is it? Did something happen?"

"No…" Mary didn't know if she should divulge anything given that she had no idea herself what it meant.

"Mary!? I've told you all…now spill."

"Alright…alright." Mary said. "We kissed once at Christmas. I didn't think much of it as it was under some mistletoe but tonight… tonight we did it again in the garage." Mary blushed. "It quite swept me away."

"And now what? You return to your respective stations and accept half a life? You have to tell him."

"He's marrying someone else."

"He'll just have to get unengaged. Did Lavinia see anything?"

"I'm not sure."

Sybil sighed. "I know what I'd do. You have to fight in this world for what you love. I hope Matthew knows that. And you."

Mary rested her head against the headboard. "You do have a way with things Sybil. I'm not sure I could ever put myself out there like that. And you better watch yourself as well. Papa's placated now but disobey him again and he'll disinherit you."

XX

The next morning was going to be an awkward one at Crawley house. Matthew overslept and was in a grouchy mood. The events of the previous night had his head spinning for all sorts of reasons. He was finishing his shaving when he heard a knock on the door.

"Mr. Crawley," Molesley's voice from the hallway. "You have a telephone call from the barracks."

Matthew's shoulders sagged. That's all he needed. "Thank you."

He wiped his face with the warm cloth and pulled on his shirt. He walked downstairs to answer the telephone. "Hello?"

After a few minutes of listening, he said brusquely, "I see. Yes. I'll be there."

He hung up the receiver and walked towards the dining room. He heard the clinks of cutlery so he knew his mother and Isobel were eating breakfast.

"I have to cut short this week end leave I'm afraid." Matthew said as he entered. "General Strutt wants to take advantage of the good weather and get a head start. We leave for Leeds this afternoon."

Isobel frowned but understood he had no control over his schedule anymore. "That's too bad but Lavinia must return to London as well so you can escort her to the train station to salvage some time together. I know I shouldn't leave the two of you together…"

Matthew threw his mother a look.

"But if you don't tell anyone I suppose it will fine." Isobel conceded.

Matthew glanced at Lavinia but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

He sighed and left the room.

Matthew walked back upstairs to change into his uniform and pack. He could ask Molesley but he was still not used to having a servant around. While he put his shirts in the overnight bag he couldn't help but think it was very odd Lavinia having to go back to London at such short notice. Did she really forget that appointment or rather did she just not want to be in his company anymore?

They left shortly thereafter with Matthew holding onto Lavinia's bag in his right hand and his own in his left.

"I'm sorry we didn't have a lot of time this time around." Matthew said as they made the turn around the church to the train station.

"It's fine. I shouldn't have tried to come in the first place. Papa has a very weak chest and he needs me."

Matthew nodded for lack of anything to say. The unsaid accusation being he didn't need her?

"And it will give us a chance to have a good think about things."

"Things?"

"To be quite, quite sure about what we're doing."

He swallowed hard.

"I might as well say it. When I opened the door last night I saw you and Mary."

Matthew compressed his lips. "Ah…"

"I'm not in a fury though perhaps I should be. I began to worry before but I told myself I was imagining things."

"It was just…" Matthew started a defense.

But Lavinia cut him off. "One thing I do want to confirm is did you know Mary before we met?"

"Slightly," Matthew had to admit. "I was introduced to the family the same day we met on the train. I was just returning from Downton with my mother where we attended a charity picnic. They all seemed to think I was lost when I went for a walk and Mary claimed to have located me when actually I was just trying to get away on my own. You remember how condescending people were when I couldn't see. I didn't need their pity or scorn."

"I never did that." Lavinia replied. "In that respect I believe I could look after you better than anyone else."

"Yes. Yes you're probably right." He mouthed the words but also realized they may very well be true. Would Mary have handled his blindness?

He couldn't help adding, "But I don't want be loved out of pity. Out of need."

"Do you really think that? You've changed since regaining your sight. You seem so restless all the time now. I'm not sure I know you at all. First the army and now this. What will be next?"

Matthew despite himself bristled, "I want to experience things denied me yes."

"That appears obvious." Lavinia retorted. The train to London arrived at a stop. Lavinia walked towards the first-class car.

Matthew followed her, "I don't know what you want from me…"

"I need you to say you want to be with me more than Lady Mary Crawley." She opened the door and got inside.

"It's not as easy as that…" Matthew had no idea what to say to her. What was she doing?

"Isn't it?" Lavinia observed coolly. "Then that's your answer." And she turned away from him and took her seat.

The engine started.

Matthew watched as the train began to move down the track and then sat down, his head in his hands.

What had he done?

XX

Matthew shook off the gloom he felt seeing Lavinia off at the station. He had to report for duty as one of the adjutants to General Strutt's visit to several cities in northern England for recruitment. The draft was in full effect but it would look so much better from the Army's perspective if men volunteered instead. His role would be to guide the general around Manchester and more importantly introduce Strutt to Lord Grantham for a tour of Yorkshire, Downton, and the convalescent hospital. There was going to be a luncheon with local dignitaries and government officials.

Arriving back at his barracks Matthew had to complete sets of itineraries for each member of staff for all the cities on the general's tour. It was tedious but detailed paperwork and it took all his concentration. He was glad to focus on the task of the moment.

Once the itineraries were done he handed them off to Strutt's ADC and returned to his room to pack.

They left late that afternoon for Leeds. After a series of meetings and speeches Matthew was done for the day and he arrived at Carlton Barracks where he'd spend several days sharing a cramped room with three other junior lieutenants from the North Riding.

"I could do this forever. Anything to get out of the mud for a few days." Lt. Lawson threw himself into a chair in the mess.

"Have you heard about Pullings?" Another man Matthew to whom he had not been introduced spoke to Lawson. "He's been seconded to this sound ranging section. You know locating positions of the Boche using listening posts equipped with microphones and things. Extraordinary stuff this Australian boffin Bragg is doing. The Canadians used it at Vimy Ridge to plot every German artillery battery."

Lawson tapped his pipe against his mouth in thought. "Might be useful. Can't see it changing the course of the war though."

Matthew interjected, "I do. If they utilize that along with the overhearing devices I've read about they could listen in to German conversations and coordinate attacks based upon the findings of the sound ranging. Being able to tell the enemy's position and intention could change everything in our favour."

The two men stared at him. The older one, Mathew realized was a captain. Did he say anything out of turn?

"Er…sorry sir." He held out a hand. "Matthew Crawley. I'm on the administrative staff at Grantham."

"It's quite alright. I think you should talk to Pullings as well. They need men in Belgium to train in this acoustical stuff. I can't say I understand it all but you sound right keen."

Matthew had to admit, "I'm not allowed in combat. I'm Category C3 because of my bad eyes."

Captain Drummond grunted, "Not your eyes they want son. It's your ears. This is behind the lines. I'll put your name in if you want."

Matthew's face lit with anticipation. "I'd like that very much. To be able to do something finally."

They shook hands again and then shortly Drummond was called away to a meeting.

The next few days were filled with activities so Matthew wasn't expecting any action on his requested change of assignment. But Drummond was good as his word and by the week's end Matthew had been granted permission for special duty with the Fourth Army III Corps 345 Section and would be sent to Kemmel Hill in Belgium for specialized training in sound ranging.

He would take up the post as soon as the dinner at Downton was over.

Matthew could not believe this change of fortune. He was finally going to the front. Maybe not in the lines but at least on the European continent. And doing real work, not just paper pushing and sending others to their deaths.

It was what he had wanted since the return of his eyesight.

His mother of course would be worried. Isobel was to meet him at Downton to help with the tour of the convalescent hospital along with Lady Grantham.

Matthew had intended to have a private word with her regarding his change of duty but as soon as General Strutt's car pulled up to the Abbey there was a flurry of activities and meetings both with doctors and the men in rehabilitation. He greeted his mother with a kiss on her cheek but she was soon involved in a long discussion about patient care and he never had the chance to pull her aside.

Mary was there of course. Also showing members of Strutt's staff the various wards and explaining how they managed to make room for so many soldiers.

They caught each other's eyes and as with every other time Mary came into Matthew's vision she took his breath away. Only this time was also the charge of electricity that shocked his body as he remembered her lips on his.

So erotic. Yet so wrong.

He pushed the memory away, sure his face had flamed red. He had not allowed himself to think about the consequences of being seen kissing Mary by Lavinia. He was ashamed his actions hurt her. But were his guilty feelings more about the action? Or being caught and reacting self-righteously against Lavinia's accusations?

Later that evening they had the formal dinner. Matthew changed into his red mess kit along with the other officers and rejoined the general at Downton. After everyone was seated at the dining table light conversation commenced about some of the activities the men enjoyed while rehabilitating.

Matthew was sat across from General Strutt and beside Cora and his mother. To the general's immediate right was Mary who chatted about the drafting of her favorite hunter to a young subaltern to her left.

General Strutt leaned a bit over the table, "I hear congratulations are in order Mr. Crawley. Drummond says your secondment to Belgium will commence after this tour. We'll miss you of course, but this sound ranging is the new thing. I'm hoping it will shake the general staff's tree and get this war on a victory footing."

Matthew tugged at his stiff collar nervously but acknowledged the compliment. "Thank you, sir."

Mary stopped what she was saying and turned to listen. Her eyes narrowed at the mention of Belgium. Matthew was being sent overseas?

He took in her concern and felt his mother's hand on his arm.

Well that did it. No need to have to privately tell anyone anything.

"We'll talk later," he told his mother. "I'm not going to the front lines so you don't have to worry."

"You let me be the judge of what I worry about for you." His mother responded.

"There was no time to tell you earlier," he tried to explain. "I just received word myself yesterday."

She could not stop him. It was just a matter of easing her mind.

At least that's what Matthew told himself.

XX

Mary made her way towards him after the men had their port and cigars. He was so very handsome in that dress uniform it almost undid all the strength she had decided she must have around Matthew. He was not hers. He was intent on marrying Lavinia despite his own actions the night Sybil ran away clearly indicated his affection had turned away from her.

"What is this?" She asked pointedly. "I don't understand. Don't they know about your eyes?"

"It's a specialized training in sound engineering. It's a relatively new technology. I'll be behind the lines in no danger." He used the same calming words with Mary that he did with his mother.

It didn't work much with her either.

Mary grunted. "Anything in France is dangerous from our perspective. I saw your mother's face go quite ashen when General Strutt was talking. And what does Lavinia think of it? Indeed where is she?"

Matthew's tongue wiped across his lips then pursed them. "She's in London. Her father is ill."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

He wasn't about to elaborate but suddenly he realized there was no more time. He had to tell now. He swallowed, "Lavinia saw us kiss that night. She opened the door and … and we didn't pull away in time."

"How terrible for her." Mary knew their actions had been rash and she never meant to hurt Lavinia. She had told her about Carlisle which had been so very kind and difficult for her. And to have as her reward witnessing her fiancé kissing another woman was the height of effrontery.

"We've not spoken since she left on the train the next morning." Matthew bowed his head. "But…but be… Because of that I believe she wants to break our engagement. She says I need to decide to whom I belong more. Her or you…" He gave Mary an agonized stare.

"Have you actually broken things off with her?"

Matthew could read nothing into Mary's words for her face had gone blank, refusing to give him any hint as to her emotional state.

"I can't let her do that…" He started to say. That was the proper response of a gentleman he thought.

"You have to let her do what she wants." Mary snapped. "You can't tell her what to do just because you're ashamed to have been found in the arms of another woman."

He felt the sting of that reproval. "I know. I will go to London before leaving for Belgium and talk with her. She deserves to know where we stand."

"And where is that exactly?" Mary's tone turned cold, "Perhaps you regret what took place."

"I never said I regretted it…" Matthew rejoined quickly. He searched Mary's eyes for signs she didn't regret it either.

Mary averted her face rather than show her emotions to the one man who could read past her cool façade. Matthew was going to have acknowledge his change of heart before she would give hers away.

"Then I suggest you make up your mind where things stand between us."

Matthew was dumbstruck. Would this woman have him? He knew in his soul he'd be hers for the rest of his life. But she was so mercurial how was he to know if it would work? Was she just miffed at his rejection and wanted to play with him like so many of the suitors that fell at her heels. And besides the guilt of betraying Lavinia weighed like an anchor, making him unable to move forward.

Mary broke the silence with a curt, "Maybe when you stop playing at soldiers you will make up your mind. I have no interest in making decisions for you." And with that she walked away and out the room heading towards the salon and took up a conversation with her mother never intending to look back.

Matthew headed towards the door with the other officers. He knew that in order to set things straight with Mary he first had to rectify the guilt. Resolved in that at least he got in the car back to the barracks and would ask the next day for week end leave to go to London to complete unfinished business before heading overseas.

He would do right by Lavinia. She deserved nothing less.

XX  
 _Love your opinions and observations.  
The sound ranging operation is an actual thing that came into operation by the British army in 1915-1917. I'll be writing more about it as Matthew takes up his new job._


	10. Chapter 10

XX

Matthew stood on the threshold of the Swire residence. He was about to ring the bell but his hand froze before it reached the pull.

What was he to say? He had telephoned asking to meet Lavinia for tea. At first she put him off pointing out there wasn't much else to say but he had persuaded her that they needed to talk. He knew he needed to lay all his cards on the table. And he had to do it in person.

She deserved to hear it from his lips. Even though he knew it would break him to see her hurt. Ironic, he knew. He never considered that regaining his sight would result in causing pain to those he loved.

Matthew yanked on the bell pull in one swift motion.

Hopkins opened the door. "Good day Lt. Crawley. Miss Lavinia is in the morning room."

"Thank you." Matthew gave him his cap and walked through.

Lavinia was seated by the window. "Hello Matthew," she said so softly he hardly heard her.

She looked so very pale. "Lavinia?" Matthew walked over to the window seat beside her, starting to take her hand and then withdrew. Maybe she didn't want his touch anymore? But his face was etched with concern. "Has your father's health taken a bad turn?"

"Dr. Foley was in earlier and said he was as well as a man with pneumonia and a bad heart can be. Which I'm taking is him trying not to say it's only a matter of time." Lavinia's hand trembled.

"I'm so very sorry Lavinia."

She looked up. "About my father or your behaviour?"

Matthew slumped, his eyes closed.

He deserved that rebuke. "I want to talk to you about my atrocious conduct the other week. I…I have no excuse other than I didn't know how to tell you… tell you…" He trailed off, gathering his thoughts.

Lavinia waited.

He swallowed. "I didn't know how to tell you that I have had a change of affection." God that sounded fatuously formal. Matthew made himself continue, "And I should probably withdraw my proposal of marriage."

"Should probably?" Lavinia inquired quietly. "I want to be very clear." Her eyes clear and intent on his own.

She's right dammit Matthew thought. No more hedging.

"I believe…." Matthew broke off again, putting his fingers to his forehead. But he knew what he had to say and he turned to look at her directly, "I no longer believe we should get married. I don't want to hurt you anymore Lavinia. It seems very cruel. Very unfair to you and I am so so sorry."

"I appreciate your honesty Matthew." Lavinia managed to utter, though her voice cracked upon uttering his name. "I would never want you to marry the wrong person and I have enough self-worth to not want to do the same. We made our engagement in a different time under different circumstances. I agree it's time we moved on from each other." Lavinia reached for the ring on her left finger. She took it off and gave it back to him.

Matthew shoved it in his coat pocket.

Both turned away. Matthew looked out the window. Lavinia heard the door open. Hopkins walked through, "shall I have tea brought in?"

Lavinia nodded assent and the two waited in silence as Mrs. Asprey and the butler put down a tray of tea and a stand of cakes.

When they left Lavinia moved to pour each a cup.

"I shouldn't stay." Matthew stood up, saying, "You don't want me here anymore."

"I want to part without rancor." Lavinia answered, meeting his doleful set of eyes. "Without bitterness. We could hardly have known you would regain your sight and come into such a large inheritance. I'm not sure I'd be good as queen of the county. Mary was born to it."

"I don't want to hear you say that." Matthew's voice hitched, "I really have no idea what the future holds. I'm off to Belgium in a few days to start training in sound ranging."

"To the front?" Lavinia gripped the teapot hovering near the rim of a cup but it was no longer her place to worry about him. Instead she said, "Papa wants to see you. I don't want him disturbed too much and he's very weak but if you want you can go up after tea and read to him. He won't acknowledge you but I know he knows who's in the room. It helps calm him."

"I would like to do that." Matthew held out his hand to take the proffered cup.

"There's a book by the bed," Lavinia's voice was brittle, but she continued, " _Le Morte D' Arthur_. One of his favourites."

Matthew took a perfunctory sip of the tea but he tasted none of it.

The air settled silently around them. A clink of a cup against the saucer. A hacking cough from above stairs.

"Don't tell him Matthew." Lavinia finally spoke up. "I'll inform him when he's stronger. It'll be enough to have your companionship."

"Of course." Matthew said gently. He would feel a complete fraud but he'd do whatever Lavinia wanted. "I will go up directly."

Lavinia gave a weary smile, "Thank you."

About an hour or so later Matthew took his leave. Reggie seemed to know of Matthew's presence but his eyes opened no more than half-lidded as certain favorite passages from Mallory passed Matthew's lips. He walked solemnly down the staircase, knowing it would the last time he'd ever step foot in the house.

Matthew retrieved his cap and coat from Hopkins.

Lavinia opened the front door herself, "Good-bye Matthew," her hand outstretched. "Take care."

Matthew felt it trembling in his light grip. "Good-bye." She quickly closed the door before he could say anything else.

Walking away, shoulders drooped, Matthew knew he had done the right thing.

It just didn't feel so good in the immediate aftermath.

XX

Matthew returned to Crawley House to collect his things before catching the train to Dover for the troop ship to Boulogne, France and then a train to Kemmel Hill, Belgium. No chance to talk to Mary about the London trip he would write to her once he was settled at the sound ranging camp.

His mother saw him off at the Downton Village train station.

"I don't know that I approve of this venture. But you want to do something for the war effort so I will not let you go thinking I don't support you. I will just spend the next months in a constant state of worry."

Matthew put his bag inside the First-Class car. "I will be well behind the lines, Mother. We use the sound equipment to determine the coordinates of hostile fire. Mostly it's all done in a hut." It was not quite the truth, of course. The microphones and communication channels needed regular maintenance which would mean accompanying a patrol out to potentially dangerous areas, especially where the lines changed quickly from allied to enemy hands.

Isobel didn't believe a word but she'd not let him think she saw past his dissembling. Saying instead, "I am glad you settled things with Lavinia before you left."

Matthew's lip curved at the side of his mouth. "You think I'm wrong don't you?"

"I think you fancy yourself in love with Lady Mary Crawley. She's quite enigmatic and quite beautiful..." Isobel said.

"But not the wife for a man with my condition." Matthew finished for her. "It might be quite unfair. We get along quite well. I think she just might surprise you."

"We shall see." Isobel took her son's arm. "I want nothing but the best for you."

"Lavinia said she'd telephone when her father dies. It should be very soon I think." Matthew said.

"I will take my cue from her as to whether she'd like my help with anything." Isobel replied gently.

Matthew was relieved. "Thank you, Mother."

The whistle blew and he took the step up into the compartment. He pulled the window down as the train started away.

Matthew blew his mother a kiss.

She smiled and waved.

And he was away to Dover and the crossing to France.

XX

Cora checked the travel case just to have something to do. Sybil was taking so very little with her.

"We could perhaps send a trunk later…"

"Mama where I'm going I will need very little but my uniforms and a few things to wear when I'm off duty. I won't be going to Paris for fancy dinners with the ambassador."

Cora smoothed the soft collar of her daughter's VAD uniform. "I know."

"It's what I want to do Mama. Please be happy for me." Sybil could see the worry lines etched in her mother's face. "I've got to do something to help."

"I know my darling girl but it's a mother's prerogative to worry about her children and there's nothing you can do about it."

They embraced. Mary and Edith stood next to each other near the door when their grandmother entered. "So you've not changed your mind? I could inform Shrimpie to pull you back because you're too young…"

"No Granny please. Mama and Papa have said I could go." Sybil reminded her.

"Ever so reluctantly." Cora told Sybil.

"But you did. I am trained. I am capable of doing this. I must go." Sybil was adamant. She was bound for the Dover train to Boulogne and the military hospital at Ypres. What she did not have to add was that Tom had volunteered as an ambulance driver at the front and this sudden desire to serve overseas was connected to his decision. They would at least be on the same continent even if the chance of meeting was remote.

Violet held out her arms for Sybil. "If you're determined. Good luck with it all. It's a big step but I know war deals out strange tasks. Look at your great Aunt Roberta."

Edith opened the door to let Cora and Sybil out. They started to walk down the hall.

"What about her?" Mary's eyes narrowed trying to recollect anything about such a distant relative. She and Violet followed behind.

"She loaded guns at Lucknow." Violet reminded. "It's that peculiar strain in Crawley women to do what they want. You've all got it. Edith with her driving and scribbling. You and your resolve to take over the hospital while breaking the heart of any young suitor without even letting the blow fall by degree to give him the strength to face it."

"Oh Granny…" Mary rolled her eyes.

"Tell me I'm wrong." Violet challenged her granddaughter. "Do you intend to say yes to anyone?"

"What? Before the bloom falls off the rose?" Mary's voice was icy. "Too bad it's not peace time and you could send me to Italy to scare up some unsuspecting Italian prince."

"There's something to be said for that."

"The world's changing. Sybil's decisions show that we can't all stay in our former places."

"Her rebellion you mean. If she were properly married her husband would be making these decisions for her."

Mary huffed, "How can you say that? Do we not have brains of our own?"

Her grandmother's cane quivered and she slumped slightly against Mary. Mary reached out to clasp her around the waist, keeping her upright. "I'm sorry for raising my voice Granny."

Granny took Mary's hand. Despite it's frail appearance, the grip was strong. "Don't worry, my dear. I've borne many changes in my lifetime and lived through more conflicts than I'd care to remember. Wars make us distinguish between the things that matter and the things that don't. This one is much the same."

"It's brutal." Mary agreed grimly. "The numbers of casualties are mounting. And there's no end in sight. The Germans even listen in to what the British commanders are saying so that they can counterattack."

"And what else does Matthew write from his new job in Belgium?" Violet asked with only a hint of slyness. "Is he really in danger? I know the king is very concerned about not having any heirs left to inherit and sit in the Lords. This war has gone on far too long."

"I…" Mary stiffened. "Matthew writes only to keep the family informed. Papa likes to know."

Violet started down the staircase. "You need to come up with a better reason than that to have us believe that's his motivation in writing specifically to you."

Mary had to smile. She could never pull the wool over her granny's eyes. "His letters are sometimes censored. I had to read between the lines to figure that out. They don't want us knowing anything of substance. He has told me he's broken things off with Lavinia."

Now that was news. Violet planted her cane on the landing step. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

Mary shrugged. "I don't know. He's given no indication of making his intentions clear."

"Then perhaps you should. Tell him what's in your heart. I know that you, like me, pretend not to have one. But I know otherwise. You just want to give it away to the right man."

"And Matthew Crawley is the right man, Granny?" Mary was shaken by her grandmother's bluntness so she tried to diffuse it with humor. "So that I can follow the lead of my husband's opinions and not make any decisions myself?"

"He'd be a fool if he thought that." Violet riposted. "You have more wit about you than most Crawley's."

"But isn't that what you just said about Sybil?"

"I can be as contrary as I want. Privilege of age." Granny laughed. They had reached the salon long after the rest of the family had left by the front door to get into the car to ride with Sybil to the train station.

Mary and Violet lagged behind.

"Everything is so topsy turvy I don't know anymore." Mary admitted. Sybil's volunteering for overseas service so soon after the events of Gretna Green had thrown her for a loop. She felt this pull to protect her little sister from any harm. And now she was to be in the thick of it.

As was Matthew. Neither of them spoke of it in their letters. Letters that grew more personal with every writing. He tried to reassure. He was fine. His eyes were functioning properly. There was no danger. But for reasons she could not quite explain, she didn't believe him.

"I want only what's best." Violet concluded before they reached the front door where they could no longer speak in private. "It's the job of grandmothers to interfere so you can take my advice or leave it. But if he feels the same way, and I think he does, you should give him a chance."

"Thank you, Granny." Mary said before they approached the rest of the family. "I will consider it."

Mary settled in beside Sybil. Edith was on the other side. The Crawley sisters wanted to be close to each other for as long as possible before having to finally let go.

XX

Matthew sat in the main hut waiting the signal call from the RFC observer planes. His job today was to patiently wait for signals capturing the gun boom of the German artillery picked up by a string of microphones laid down earlier. He'd press a relay button each time the observer aircraft signaled that would start a camera in the next room. The camera captured the sound of the battery flashed during the signal to begin the process of locating those enemy batteries and send that information up the chain of command to coordinate offensive attacks.

Essentially filming sound, Matthew realized when he first took the tour of the facility. Captain William Buchanan, a friendly Canadian officer, patiently took Matthew through the process. "Started by the Germans and the French, you know. You Brits are always slow to new things. But then Major Tucker invented the low frequency microphone and William Bragg the hot wire wave detector and we were in business."

An incredibly bright bulb shone onto a harp like device with six strings of microphone wire which ran through the hut roof as well as the walls and out onto the fields of battle. Prisms lined up behind each string captured and deflected the light at right angles into a dark room where film captured the movement of the prisms and each blip or eruption of the current was then marked with a time code. These strips were then taken into a map room. Other officers measured the gaps between the eruptions with lengths of string and then affixing one end of the string to a pin on the map and swing it from side to side to mark an arc. Each pin is a microphone location so where the arcs intersect the gun sites must be.

Matthew found it all astonishing. He couldn't say he understood the mathematics yet to plot the coordinates on the maps but he was a patient listener and so they stationed him with a set of earphones to pick up the signals from the observer craft. He was also learning to develop the films. Occasionally he and a team were sent out to restring the microphones as they became detached or were no longer in the proper locations.

"At night you can hear the guns distant from Nieppe and the front lines," Matthew started to write to Mary and then tore it up. He had to start thinking about everything he wrote as the censors would mark out any indication of where he was before the letter was sent on to England and Downton.

The pen hovered above the paper. Matthew had already written to Mary telling her of his meeting with Lavinia and the ending of their engagement. He had no expectations regarding her response to this decision. He had nothing really to give her. So many of her other suitors were already titled with land and wealth and a social position. He had none of those things.

Just the realization of a love unending.

He knew it now. Not idle or shallow. But an affection and regard that would last all the days of his life.

The next step was a proposal of marriage. Would she accept? They had kissed. They had flirted. But did all that add up to a willingness to commit to a lifetime with a man who had so little to offer. The title and inheritance of Downton most probably decades away, he had nothing but the stipend from Robert and the potential to do more than he had expected with a career once the war was over. Return to the notion of a law career maybe?

 _Oct 14, 1917  
My dear Mary,_

 _I hope all is well at Downton. I know you said in your last letter that the young footman William Mason's father was poorly and you sent him home to be with him in case the worst happened before he gets sent in the next draft to France. That was very good of you. I've not heard word from Mother about Reggie Swire's condition but fear it must have taken his life by now. I can hardly believe it's been four months since my arrival as the time flies by with all the work to be done. Mother has written to tell me she's joined the Red Cross and will travel with a party of other volunteers to Boulogne to help ferry patients between hospitals and the transport ships back to England. It should keep her very occupied._

 _Believe me, affectionately,  
Matthew_

He was eating lunch in the mess reading her letter when it came in the morning mail call.

 _Dear Matthew,_

 _Mr. Mason has recovered and his son has joined the draft but at least he will go with the knowledge his father is on the mend. We have more convalescees than ever and have had to open up two more rooms upstairs. Your mother came by Downton on her way to London and the train to Dover to say good-bye. I believe she knows I write to you as she said to send her warmest love. The Red Cross wishes to put on another concert at Downton and so we are preparing once again. Edith has the piano tuned and I am trying to learn some of the new songs. She is engaged by the way to Major Strallan who has lost part of his arm while at Passchaendale. I might have misjudged "salty pudding" as he seems a good, decent man. A brave one as well. We all seem scattered to the winds these days. Sybil is in France, somewhere near Ypres I believe. So busy with her nursing she hardly writes at all._

 _Keep safe. Know you are in my thoughts daily.  
Most affectionately yours,  
Mary _

Matthew smiled and put the letter inside his jacket pocket.

Next to his heart.

The next day when the mail call arrived he was surprised to hear his name. Mary couldn't have written so soon again and he had already received a letter from his mother.

A dark rimmed envelope was handed to him. That meant only one thing. Someone had died. He steeled himself to see Lavinia's handwriting telling him of her father's demise. But the left sloped script was not Lavinia's. It had been sent to his former post in York and then forwarded to Belgium.

He opened it. Reading swiftly his hand started to shake as the contents were revealed.

 _My dear Matthew,  
I am writing to inform you that Lavinia died in the bombing raid that recently occurred over the skies of London. She was on her way home from a charity event when it happened. I was told it was very sudden and she felt no pain. I have no way of knowing if that's merely to comfort a grieving father. My own recovery has been slow but steady even if these past days have sent me back to my bed. I felt your former attachment warranted a personal letter telling you of her death. You are a good man and I know she always felt very highly about you.  
Sincerely,  
Reggie Swire_

The paper fell from his hand. Matthew stared into the empty space, unable to move. Unable to feel.

"Crawley?" A voice from the doorway. "We need to get a party together to check some strings. Up for it?"

Startled, Matthew's face turned. His eyes slits of steely blue. "Absolutely." He shoved the chair back and followed the Captain out the hut.

XX

"Mary the men have finished moving the piano into the library. They're about to set up the chairs. Do you want to go over the songs again?" Edith called out into the salon.

Mary was walking towards the drawing room.

"Do I have to? I've got loads of paperwork to catch up."

"Just one time."

"Very well." Mary followed her sister back into the library. "Have you heard from your major?" She asked casually, having resolved to make an extra effort to get to know and like Edith better. Sybil being away seemed to make the two remaining sisters more tolerable towards each other.

"He's doing some work for the Quartermaster General now. Dogs body stuff he calls it but at least it keeps him busy." Edith gently rotated her engagement ring on her third finger. "If Sybil is serious about her former chauffeur, you'll be the only one without a beau."

Mary scoffed. "I have more important things to worry about right now."

Edith slyly smirked and returned to the piano arrangements.

"What?" Mary's eyes narrowed.

"Mary I know you and Matthew are writing. Is there any news on that front?"

"So what?" Mary's eyes narrowed coldly. "We write. There's not much more to be said." Mary rejected her sister's interest. Why was it so difficult to talk to Edith when she thought nothing of confessing all to Sybil? The two had been too much at odds over the years. This reconciliation would take more than she imagined. It was so much easier to tease and torment. Mary sighed, "I mean to say he's very busy and his work takes a great deal of concentration. I've not heard from him however in about a week."

Edith gave an encouraging smile for she knew how much effort that took for Mary to open up even that much. "Maybe we'll hear something soon."

Mary was called away by the matron and Edith waited for her return.

She heard her father on the telephone in the salon, "I see. Thank you for letting me know."

He rang off and walked into the library, his fingers on his brow.

"Are you all right Papa?" Edith asked.

"That was the War Office. Matthew's not been seen since he went out a few days ago with a party to fix some of the microphone lines. It's quite possible he'll be listed officially as Missing in Action."

"Dear God." Edith's hands flew to her face.

"Let's not all fall to pieces quite yet. He might turn up at a hospital. It does happen. Or…" He swallowed.

"Taken prisoner?" Edith finished the sentence.

The two exchanged worried looks.

"They could not contact Isobel which is why they telephoned here."

"She's in France I think Mary said." Edith informed her father.

Robert nodded. "Well we'll have to wait and see. Where is Mary? Maybe we shouldn't tell her…"

At that moment she walked back into the library.

"Tell me what?" Mary's eyes widened. "What's happened?"

Edith walked over. "Matthew's missing. He's sort of vanished along with a group of other men. It doesn't seem right to keep you in the dark."

Mary's face turned ashen. She nodded mechanically.

"I'm not trying to upset you, truly." Edith bit the side of her mouth. They were always ever out to make the other hurt.

"I believe you." Mary clasped her sister's hand. "Thank you for telling me."

She turned away before Edith or her father could see the start of the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

XX

 _Thoughts?_  
 _I did my best with the sound ranging. Most of the information used came from :_ _"_ **Stop, hey, what's that sound?" /2013/01/10/stop-hey-whats-that-sound/ via wordpressdotcom**


	11. Chapter 11

XX

 _November 1917_

Captain Buchanan brooded in the dark. They had been in this bombed out house for two days and it was considerably unnerving both to be caught out behind enemy lines and to be in confined quarters with five men without much food or water. They had only their canteens and rations brought with them in knapsacks.

He heard a noise and jumped.

No illumination either in the middle of the night. Safer yes, but not conducive to improving morale. Buchanan heard someone kick against a piece of furniture and let out a quiet curse.

"Sit down O'Brien."

"Sorry sir. I was just returning from out back." Buchanan knew what he was doing. They had set up a latrine at the side of the house.

"Try to get some sleep."

Buchanan rose and felt his way to the front door, a scarred victim of the shell that destroyed two thirds of this house.

Matthew was just outside. The rest had retired after the evening stand to. He turned at the sound of footsteps.

"Just me son," the older man said, the crescent moon providing a sliver of light.

Matthew had volunteered each night to stand guard. "Have you seen any movement?"

"No sir. All quiet. There were a few sounds coming from the west along that brush line but it was just some loose boards blowing in the wind."

"We're probably safe." Buchanan grunted and sat down next to the young lieutenant. "I think the column we saw yesterday was a reconnaissance squad. The Boche moved over the ridge days ago and are on the other side by now. Even so, maybe we should wait one more day before going out again though it risks our intelligence being too late to be of use."

"It would be good to let divisional headquarters know of their location." Matthew knew the importance of their information. "Too bad we don't have any way to communicate it now."

"One day there will be portable devices along the lines of wireless radios where we can relay intelligence back and forth." Buchanan blew on his hands. It was getting colder and the clouds hid the moon making even more inky black.

Matthew dipped his head, "I had no idea the technology had advanced as far as it has." He pulled on his neck, trying to loosen the stiffness that had set in.

Buchanan grunted again. "One of the strange benefits of war. Necessity is the mother of invention as they say."

Matthew's head jerked up and two fingers flew to his lips to indicate quiet.

The two men sat silent. Matthew heard a rustle at the side of the house.

A cat emerged from a pile of debris and wandered over, brushing its tail against Matthew's leg.

"You have remarkable ears." Buchanan observed.

Matthew gave a grim smile.

Two days ago the repair party had not gone very far along the string of microphone wires when Matthew had heard the sounds of footsteps. Informing the captain, he had followed as they took quick shelter in a bombed-out house on the outskirts of Nieppe. Two of the men went out to investigate and saw a column of about twelve Germans walking on a path not half a mile from their location. Capt. Buchanan decided not to risk venturing out immediately and they remained in the shelter until he could determine if they were clear to move out.

Staying that first night, unable to eat anything more than the rations, some stale bread they found in the house, and some tepid canteen water, the men grew restless, their nerves on edge as daylight slipped away.

Matthew knew he would not sleep and so volunteered to keep watch. The others had felt comfortable with this because he was the one who first alerted them to the enemy in the first place.

Matthew was not afraid of the night. The darkness had been his longtime companion as he had long ago made his peace with it.

He was afraid of sleeping. Of the thoughts that crept into his mind that he was responsible for Lavinia's death.

The guilt threatened to crush him.

So he kept watch instead. Giving him something to do. Making his time in the army useful to his captain, his brother officers, and the enlisted men. God knows he needed it to be so now. If he had not regained his sight, if he had done something different, not broken their engagement, not joined the army, he'd have been there to protect Lavinia and she'd be alive.

At least that was the scenario that ran through his head over and over.

"I went blind when I was thirteen," Matthew informed Buchanan. It was the first time he had ever told anyone in the army of his affliction. "I just regained my sight last year. While it's not all together true when one loses one sense the others become more acute, when blind you learn to focus on environmental sounds or your sense of touch. These senses become more efficiently used."

"Well it certainly came in handy here." Buchanan stood up. "Tomorrow evening we'll head out south and find our way back to that field dressing station we passed two days ago."

"Do you think our families have been informed? Been told we're missing?" It would be difficult to locate his mother. Would they have told the Grantham's instead? Matthew had pushed aside all thoughts of Mary after hearing about Lavinia.

Would Mary be worried?

"Yes." Buchanan confirmed. "They'd have been sent telegrams or a telephone call from the War Office. As soon as we can get out of here we'll set their minds at ease."

Matthew gave a short nod of understanding.

The captain stood up to retire back inside for the night.

Matthew returned to the night watch. The sky turned a foreboding blood orange as the guns started firing in the distance. Even knowing they were their own batteries did not give him much comfort as the ground shook and rumbled.

He rubbed his eyes and huddled down to get more comfortable. He'd be relieved in three hours. Hopefully by that time his body would demand sleep and his mind would stop its troubling recriminations.

The dawn would sort itself out soon enough.

XX

The matron had informed Mary of a special inspection team arriving at Downton in the morning so she had postponed the concert until the day after.

Plus she was in no mood to sing to the troops. The news from the North Ridings had been scant. Matthew and the others were now missing three days. Robert had tried to use his connections to get more information but the only good news was that no attacks had been reported in the sector and it was likely they were just taking cover until the all clear from their captain.

That had comforted if not cheered her.

She was still very unclear as to where they stood with each other.

He had broken things with Lavinia. Did that mean she wasn't informed about his status? Should they call? Or would Lavinia's own situation with her father be enough for her to handle at the moment?

Mary rubbed her head in consternation.

Did Matthew truly love her as she loved him? Would she accept a proposal of marriage to him? She knew if so that would renege on the assertion she gave her father never to marry the man who sat next to her at dinner.

Mary was not used to such indecisiveness. She would, in the past, have made a decision right or wrong and never give it a backward glance.

Matron's approach relieved her of any more introspection. Better to get on than dwell in things she had no control over.

"The Red Cross inspector wants to see all of the accounting. Can you have them ready for me first? I want to make sure there are no mistakes." Katherine Wharton asked. The matron, Mary had learned over the course of dealing with her, was a formidable woman. But fair. Wanting only the best treatment for the men under her authority.

"I'll get them right now." Mary replied. She knew they were all in order. "How long will this inspection take?"

"All day probably."

"I will be out in the morning visiting my grandmother at the Dower House but will be back in time for tea should any questions need to be answered."

"Thank you, Lady Mary. But I don't think there will. I know we run a tight ship here. You and your mother are quite organized and involved. It makes my job much easier."

Mary smiled. Such was high praise indeed from matron. "Thank you. It's the most we can do to help." She returned to the music room to fetch the ledgers.

The next morning she arrived out front in hat, gloves, and coat for the new chauffeur Hodgkin's to drive her over to the Dower house. Hodgkins, a middle aged pudgy man, opened the door. Mary couldn't help but chuckle as it was clear her father intended no more good looking young men drive his daughters around.

Her grandmother expected her so she was immediately shown into the morning room upon arrival.

"Granny." Mary bent over and kissed her cheek.

"My dear." Violet's arm rested on Mary's shoulder and squeezed it.

Mary sat down.

"Is everything ready for tonight's concert?"

"Finally." Mary breathed relief. "I handed over the last of the accounts to matron before I left and she was already showing the inspector around the wards. By this evening everyone will be in the mood for some recreation."

"Will you?" Violet knew better than to be fooled by Mary's show of strength.

"I…" Mary straightened her shoulders. "I will do by best. The soldiers have worked hard to put together the show."

"Any word about Matthew?"

They slumped imperceptibly. "Not yet. Papa's been on to the War Office again. After Patrick, I'm not sure he can take the death of another heir."

"It was hard enough accepting this one." Violet murmured.

Mary knew what she meant. It wasn't just Matthew's middle-class status but his blindness that were barriers for her father's approval.

"He's become fonder of him lately."

"As have we all." Violet acknowledged. "How are you holding up?"

"When Patrick died I felt sad of course. He was young and we had grown up together. But I wasn't in love with him. I felt like a hypocrite going into mourning. Now, if the worst has happened, I'd be allowed to mourn Matthew only as a rather distant cousin…."

"And you feel much more strongly for him than Patrick?" Violet asked gently.

Mary closed her eyes, her cheeks paled. "I think I've loved him far longer than I thought. And to never be able to tell him so…" She twisted her gloves in her hand.

"We shall hope for the best until we're forced to believe otherwise." Violet reassured. Changing the subject she asked, "Have you chosen your songs?"

Mary blinked back several tears. "Edith and I went through some of the more popular tunes and have selected three or four." Trying to cheer up she added, "One of them is quite fun as a sing a long in the music halls I've been told. Nothing too risqué though."

"I'm glad I won't have to plug my ears then." Violet quipped. "Besides we can't let them all think, even as we are country dwellers, we are entirely provincial."

The two women made more light conversation until Violet's elderly butler announced lunch was served.

"It's a good thing Berkeley is as old I am and ineligible for the draft." Violet said as they sat down in the dining room. "I don't think I could take any more changes in this life."

A part of Mary understood her grandmother's sentiments. She, at times, believed she had aged far more than just three years since this war began.

And there was no end in sight.

XX

Edith struck up a merry cadence. She nodded to Mary who began the lyrics…

 _Jack Dunn, son of a gun, over in France today,  
Keeps fit doing his bit up to his eyes in clay.  
Each night after a fight to pass the time along,  
He's got a little gramophone that plays this song:_

Mary indicated everyone join in the chorus. The convalescees who could started to sing

 _Take me back to dear old Blighty!  
Put me on the train for London town!  
Take me over there,  
Drop me ANYWHERE,  
Liverpool, Leeds, or Birmingham, well, I don't care!_

 _I should love to see my best girl,  
Cuddling up again we soon should be,  
WHOA!_

 _Tiddley iddley ighty,  
Hurry me home to Blighty,  
Blighty is the place for me!_

Mary referred back to the lyric sheet to get the next lines right

 _Bill Spry, started to fly, up in an aeroplane,  
In France, taking a chance, wish'd he was down again…."_

She finished the verse and then they started the chorus over.

When the song ended everyone cheered.

Mary paused to look through the sheet music. Edith pointed to one that had been requested special by one of the soldiers. She leaned over to tell Mary, "It's something his wife would sing to him. She's back in America."

Mary's brow furrowed, scanning the lyrics. "I don't know Edith…" she whispered. "It just so…" She trailed off, unable to say that the words reminded her too much of Matthew.

Edith grasped the reason behind Mary's hesitation. "I can change it if you want."

Mary shook her head. "No. Not if it's a request." She moved back beside the piano. "go ahead…"

She began to sing in a low, tender voice

 _I've a letter from my sweetheart and he writes me in this way,  
"Somewhere, dear, in France we're fighting, but just where we dare not say.  
Be brave and do not sigh, and I will come back bye and bye_

 _My sweetheart is far across the ocean_

 _My sweetheart is somewhere in France_

But the words were sung mechanically by Mary. She was desperately trying not to let the song overwhelm her.  
 _  
_ _When he whispered "Good-Bye"_ _  
_ _I tried not to cry_

She bit her lip and attempted to keep singing on but then Mary noticed her father's attention at the back of the room was taken away by Carson. He whispered something in his lordship's ear and they both left the room in a hurry, her father giving Mary a long, meaning filled glance.

Was there news about Matthew? Mary was distracted but tried not to show it by averting her eyes down towards the lyric sheet.

Edith played on to allow Mary time to collect her thoughts, unaware of the activity at the back of the room.  
Mary gamely continued to sing  
 _  
_ _Because he said,_ _  
_ _"I'm taking a soldier's chance"_

A tear streaked down Mary's left cheek. She wiped it away.

But at that moment Robert returned and the look of pure joy on his face told her all she needed to know. Her father's cheeks expanded and his lips broke into a huge smile. He caught his daughter's eyes and mouthed the words so clearly she could read them. "He's alive. He's fine." He nodded his head vigorously as reinforcement.

Mary's voice broke as the relief washed over her. She bent over the piano to collect herself. Matthew was safe. He would come back to her. She would tell him what was in her heart. She would not let the opportunity slip by when next he visited.

Edith stopped playing, but Mary raised her head, smiling all of a sudden. Edith turned to see her father also smiling.

That could only mean one thing. She settled back on the piano stool, she was so very happy.

Mary picked up the sheet music again, this time with a flourish. She nodded to Edith and finished the song in a strong, mellifluous voice  
 _  
_ _Could I see him, I'd tell him that I love him_ _  
_ _And I'd put all my heart in one fond glance_ _  
_ _Ev'ry night I say a pray'r_ _  
_ _For the boy who's over there_ _  
_ _My sweetheart is somewhere in France_

She ended with a wide smile at all the soldiers who were also safe for their loved ones.

Mary finished the trilogy of songs with the rousing "It's a Long Way to Tipperary"and when she was finally replaced by a soldier magician she tried not to run down the aisle to her father's side.

She hurried over to him.

"Papa?" Mary hoped she had not misread her father's words. "Matthew?"

"Is back in Kemmel Hill along with the others who had gone out to repair some of the wiring and had to take shelter for a few days rather than be caught by a German reconnaissance patrol." Her father explained. "The War Office confirmed just now, he's fine but had to remain in Belgium to continue his duties. He won't be able to come home on leave just yet."

Mary made her hands into fists to stop them shaking, pulling them straight along each side of her body. She just kept repeated to herself, he's fine. He's fine.

"Were they able to get in touch with his mother?" Edith came up behind Mary.

"Yes. She's been told." Robert answered. He started to rub his chin in thought.

"What is it Papa?"

"I've also had word from Rosamund in London. You know they've been experiencing these horrible Gotha and zeppelin raids. She wants to come stay for a few weeks. …"

"That sounds sensible." Mary said. "But what else?" She sensed her father was keeping something from her. "What does Rosamund know?"

Robert sighed. "She read in the papers about some people who were killed in the most recent bombing. It seems there was a Lavinia Swire listed as being one of the casualties."

Mary's lips quavered. "Oh no. Her poor father. Matthew spoke of him being weak from pneumonia." She paused, making herself ask "…does Matthew know?"

Her father could only shrug his shoulders. "Perhaps he'll write to you and say."

Mary's mood turned swiftly from joy back to melancholy again. How many more innocent people would die in this war?

Everyone at least enjoyed themselves this evening. A respite for a few minutes much needed by all.

Mary retired, knowing the lines from that song would haunt her dreams in the night. But, she reminded herself, he was still not hers to dream about. What would be Matthew's state of mind right now? Safe but devastated if he knew about Lavinia.

She awaited his next letter with considerable trepidation.

It came a mere few days later.

 _Dear Mary,  
I know the War Office has informed everyone of our safe arrival back at post. It was a tense few days but no harm came to anyone in our party. I hope you were not unduly worried. _

_I do have some terrible news. I received a letter from Reggie Swire informing me that Lavinia had been killed in a London bombing raid. He's not well himself and this had made his health even more uncertain._

Mary could see he started to write something else and then scratched it out. Instead he said to give the family his regards and not to expect him in Yorkshire any time soon as he would be spending the next leave period with his mother in Boulogne and when next in England he would spend the time in London giving Reggie his condolences.

Closing with _Sincerely, Matthew_ Mary considered the return of the more formal farewell as his way of distancing himself away from her and any future they might have planned.

He had every right to do so, she knew. It would just make the time before they were together and could really have a good long talk that much further away.

That is, Mary suddenly thought. If he wanted to see her again at all?

XX

 _January 1918_

Matthew idly dipped his utensil in the bowl and stirred it around. His gaze had returned blankly to stare out the window of the restaurant.

Isobel voiced from across the table, "If you don't want it I know several refugees who will eat it instead. They have nothing but stale handouts from the Red Cross."

Matthew looked back at his mother sheepishly and spooned the bouillabaisse into his mouth. "It's delicious."

They were at one of the few restaurants still open in Boulogne. The army had taken over the city and the vast majority of the shops and buildings catered to the needs of the comings and goings of troop deployments.

"And it's very good to have your company." His mother's face beamed in happiness. She knew her son was still troubled by all that had happened in the previous months. But she couldn't help her own joy at seeing him. She had been beside herself with worry when she first received word he was missing. She'd never say to Matthew was the ever constant fear his blindness would return and to have that along side his status as missing had made her frantic.

"Thank you, Mother." Matthew tried to muster a smile. He hadn't smiled in forever. Not since he got the letter from Reggie.

Isobel knew what troubled her son. "Lavinia was a sweet girl, a kind girl. What happened was a cruel circumstance of this horrible war. But you are not to blame."

Matthew gave her a wan look. "But I think I am." His face tightened, "if I hadn't left I might have been there with her."

"And you yourself would have been killed." His mother brutally reminded him. "And that would be better?"

"Of course not." Matthew heaved a sigh.

"She would not want to see you unhappy."

"You don't understand. I deserve to be unhappy." Matthew did not want to tell her all about his liaison with Mary and how it had hurt Lavinia. He, on the other hand, couldn't get it out of his mind.

"Nonsense."

Matthew could only shake his head, refusing to believe her words.

They sat in silence and finished the meal.

"Do you want me to see Reggie when I'm next in London?"

"Please Mother. Let me deal with it myself. I will see Reggie and make my peace with him. Though I don't deserve any sympathy from him. I let Lavinia down."

His mother refused to let him brood. "Don't throw your life away on some self-indulgent pangs of guilt. What about your feelings towards Mary? Have you spoke to her?"

"No!" Matthew held up his hand. He stopped before he said something rash. He could not articulate calmly the tumult of emotions he felt. "I don't think I can face her yet."

His mother said more gently, "If there is happiness left in this world it's the young people like yourself and Mary who deserve it."

He turned his face back towards the window pane. Matthew wasn't sure he could ever believe in such things as happiness again.

XX

 _Melancholy end to a mostly happy chapter. Thoughts? Hopes for the future? MM need to talk for sure!_


	12. Chapter 12

_On something of a roll here writing so here's another installment!_

XX

 _Late March 1918_

"Crawley." Buchanan said, motioning him through the hut door. "Sit down."

Matthew took a seat in the metal backed chair. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes." His commanding officer was thumbing through some papers on his desk. "It seems we're going to lose you."

Matthew's eyes flew up. "What? I don't want to go anywhere. I've just gotten proficient in developing the film and Parsons said he'd teach me to read the graphs…"

Buchanan nodded. "It's not up to me son. None of us want to lose you but the regiment's received an official request to make you permanent ADC to Strutt in England." Buchanan looked up to see Matthew's mouth clench. "It also comes with a promotion."

"I knew nothing about this."

"You're the Earl of Grantham's heir?" Buchanan asked.

Matthew's eyes narrowed. "Yes," he answered shortly. "What does that have to do with this? I never asked…"

"No." Buchanan held a hand up, "I know you didn't. His Lordship went to the regimental colonel with a request from the king himself. As you know there's been talk of pulling back officers like yourself to keep you safe."

It all made sense. Robert had pull at court and he used it to ensure the viability of his line. It didn't matter to him what Matthew wanted. Privilege of his class.

Matthew sat back with a resigned huff, "I understand."

"You will be given a fortnight leave and then start your duties back at regimental headquarters." Buchanan stood up and held out his right hand.

Matthew rose and extended his own hand. The two men shook.

"You did well here Crawley. We'll miss you. But you must understand the situation. You're also needed at home. There's no shame to be had in this."

"But most poor blokes don't have a choice. They have to see it through to the end." Matthew was bitter. For many reasons he had begun to see his time in the army as the most important thing in his life. And to have it altered for a cushier red tab job was not at all what he wanted.

"Where will you go on leave?" Buchanan asked.

"I don't know." Matthew put on his cap. "My mother is with the Red Cross touring military hospitals. In the summer she's supposed to go to Malta. I'm not sure she will be available for anything more than a dinner."

Buchanan gave a short nod and Matthew was dismissed.

He left to return to the small house that had been requisitioned by the army to house the sound ranging group to collect his things. Lt. Barkley was in the shared room reading a book in a chair by the window. He put it down when Matthew walked in and pulled his bag out from under his bed.

"So rumour is true then? You're off to Blighty for good."

Matthew grumbled. "Not because I want to."

"I never properly thanked you for saving us all out there when we got caught out. Without those shell-like ears of yours we might all be unwilling guests of the bloody Huns by now."

Matthew grimaced. "At least I did one thing useful while here." He started to shove articles of clothing into the bag. What would he do back home? He'd go to London as he promised himself he would and see Reggie. He knew the older man was still in poor health. And he needed to close that chapter of his life before starting another.

Where would he go after? Who was he kidding? He knew where he was going. Despite his rancor towards Robert at the moment, he had to go to Downton to see Mary. To talk to her.

To settle things once and for all.

XX

 _Early April 1918_

"Matthew." The matron at St. Dunstan's walked over and gave him an embrace. "It's so good to see you again." Trying to be discrete she scrutinized Matthew's eyes to see if she could discern a change.

Matthew noticed anyway.

"I can still see." Matthew reassured, answering her unasked question. "I've had more time in London than I expected so I went to see my eye specialist. He's unable to tell me any more than he could last year. I am taking it one day at a time."

"You're on leave?" Mrs. Chesney noticed the three pips on his tunic sleeve. "Congratulations on the promotion."

"Thank you. I've been seconded back to regimental headquarters in Grantham to be ADC to General Strutt." Matthew tried not to let the bitterness seep out. He looked down the hall. "Is Joseph here?"

"He's out back. They've organized a fencing demonstration in the courtyard for next week if the weather is cooperating."

"I'll find him." Matthew made a move towards the left and then out a door. He heard the familiar sound of iron as the foils clanged and struck against each other. The foot shuffling was indicative of the participants returning to their position, following the tape on the floor laid out in grid patterns by Joseph to teach particular attack methods.

Joseph stood, unaware of Matthew's presence, guiding the students with his precise knowledge of how the movements should sound. He waited until they were done, knowing Joseph did not want to be disturbed. The two men with the foils returned to their position, swinging their foils in a salute. And then at a precise count of time they charged towards the center of the grid and struck their swords in predetermined selection of moves and counter moves.

Both wore rounded dark glasses to help hide the burns from the phosgene gas that had blinded them in the first place.

Matthew felt once again the fear rising up in him. Unbidden. Unwanted. He knew blindness was not a fate worse than death. He knew it even more so now. He had help treat wounded soldiers from this war at St. Dunstan's. Had seen even worse at the field dressing station in France when they returned from the ill-fated microphone wiring repair party. Some of those men might have prayed for a bullet to kill them clean but now had to bear the consequences of being alive. They would suffer and most probably eventually succumb to death from festering wounds that the doctors could not effectively treat.

These men, the ones jousting in this courtyard, were the lucky ones. Joseph and the others proved that blindness was just an obstacle to be overcome to a fulfilling life.

Then why was the shaking? Because as much as he told himself all of that, he wished with all the fibre of his being that he remained sighted. He knew it was selfish. He knew he had done selfish things as the result of the return of his eyesight. The guilt of all that threatened to overwhelm him and keep him from the happiness he did not believe was his to enjoy.

But was the consequence endless wallowing in self-pity and living in fear?

Matthew almost walked away, never even telling Joseph he was there. But then he ended up calling out his friend's name.

"Joseph."

"Is that you Matthew?" He took off the protective headgear. "How long can you visit?"

"I'd like to take you out for a meal later. I have to meet a solicitor in about an hour but I'll be free afterward."

"Nothing wrong I hope?"

"I'll explain when we get to the pub." Matthew deflected. "I'll be back around six?"

Joseph had already put his helmet back on. He waved the foil in acknowledgement and ordered the students back to their first position.

Matthew left. He turned out by the back gate and walked across the park then hailed a cab to take him to the Thames embankment where Fowler and Fowler were located.

The senior partner, Dominic Fowler met Matthew at the door of his office after being let him by the clerk.

"Sit down."

Matthew took a seat near the desk.

"First let me thank you tending to this in such a timely fashion. Being executor of Reggie's estate means considerable paperwork regarding assets, taxes, and debts. I will put you in touch with his accountant so the two of you can get moving on it and the selling of the London property. And.." He hands Matthew a card. "This is the funeral home Swire chose. You can make arrangements."

Matthew took the card and put it in his pocket.

"I'm already trying to get in touch with this… uh…. gentleman Mr. Pulbrook who is the prime inheritor of the estate. He might be difficult to trace in India." Fowler shuffled through some papers on the desk.

Matthew sat silently in thought, hardly listening. The previous evening had tired him more than he thought. After spending a day traveling across the Dover Strait back to England and the train to London he found a room at the Chase Hotel on Duke Street and after freshening up he had gone to see Reggie Swire. It had been well over four months since he had last seen him and the time had not been good to the older man. Lavinia's death had exacerbated his own ill health. It had been only a matter of how much time he had left in him.

Reggie had not said much, but had seemed to welcome Matthew's presence. Mrs. Astley had ushered him upstairs to the bedroom. Matthew had sat for awhile while Reggie slept, reading from the Mallory tales of King Arthur once again. When he did wake up it was as if he knew the end was close. Reggie had tried to sit up and shake Matthew's hand. Matthew gave his condolences regarding Lavinia's death.

Reggie had nodded, saying "She loved you. And I know, despite what happened, you loved her in your own way and wanted only the best for her."

Matthew's lips started to quiver. He bit them rather than try to say anything.

"I have no relations left now…" Reggie said softly. "It wasn't meant to be this way." He looked over at Matthew. "Could I ask a favour of you? I need to speak with my solicitor. His name is downstairs in my office in my address book. Could you call and set up a meeting here this evening if he can make the time." Matthew had made the arrangements.

And that was how he found himself now in Fowler's office. Swire had asked that he be executor of his estate and Matthew had agreed. He could do no less for the man who had been Lavinia's father and a friend to himself over the past year.

He had stepped out when the solicitor turned to other matters and had said his good night to Reggie. He had given his details to the lawyer and so returned to his hotel room. A telephone call from Fowler later that night asked that Matthew stay in London for a few days in case Reggie's health took the final turn for the worse. Matthew had spent the next day in Harley Street with the ophthalmologist.

Reggie had died the day after.

So today, before he could meet Joseph for dinner, he met with the solicitor. Fowler was listing his duties as executor. When Matthew thought it was all over he started to get up.

"There is one more thing…" Fowler intoned.

Matthew sat back down. "I will have to report for duty to Grantham in a short while. How much paperwork is involved?"

"Most of this can be handled by mail or telephone. You might have to make one or two more trips to London but that will be all. There are a one or two bequeaths to the butler and housekeeper." Fowler lifted up Reggie's will. "I should tell you that if we cannot get in touch with Mr. Pulbrook Reggie has listed another name that would inherit the bulk of the estate."

Matthew looked confused. "And?"

"It's you, Mr. Crawley. Your name is listed in Reggie's will as potential heir."

Matthew blinked hard. "Me?"

"I made the statement that if we cannot find this Mr. Pulbrook who doesn't seem to have a fixed address in India anymore I would need another. And he immediately chose you." The solicitor looked up at Matthew over the rim of his glasses. "As you are executor and seem an intelligent and capable young man I agreed and added your name to the will."

Matthew tried to take in this information, but his heart jumped and the pumping sound of blood filled his ears.

He didn't deserve anything from Reggie Swire.

Matthew said as much to Joseph at the Red Lion later that same evening. His friend had listened to him and with a touch of mockery in his voice said, "you are rather susceptible to getting inheritances thrown your way without any inclination to accept them."

He knew Joseph was having him on. "All right. All right." Matthew rolled his eyes. "It's only that I'd feel like a fraud."

"But Mr. Swire was aware you had broken off the engagement before Lavinia had died. He is aware of all the facts."

Matthew squirmed in his seat knowing Joseph couldn't see the look of consternation that crept across his face. He had not been true to the vows of fidelity he had made. In his own mind that was the only consideration with regards to any financial windfall. He had worked through much of the guilt related to his relationship with Lavinia. But that was the line in the sand.

He would never profit from the death of two people who meant a great deal to him.

There would have to be another way.

XX

 _Dearest Mary,  
I've only a few minutes before I go on duty. Please tell Mama I'm getting along fine. There's no time to be tired or dwell on anything as we're busy all times of the day and night but the work has only made me more determined than ever to forge my own path in life. I don't belong at Downton anymore. I want to see what the world has to offer. Tom and I have written to each other, and if Papa continues in his opposition, we will live elsewhere. On our own. Maybe Ireland. Or America. Know I love you all very very much._

 _Your beloved sister,  
Sybil_

Mary knew her sister, much like Matthew, couldn't tell the family exactly where she was nursing. They knew more about him because of Robert's connections with the War Office. He had returned to Belgium and the work with sound ranging. Sybil's location was more guesswork as she worked at a front line dressing station.

They both sounded so distant in their most recent letters. Part of it was their secrecy obligation. Part a reflection of what they've seen. What they've experienced. They were no longer the same people as the ones who had left.

She had changed as well. None of them would emerge from this war as innocent as they started.

What would happen when it was over? Was it as Sybil feared that they would end up back as they were? Because it was easy? Because it was expected? That they would learn nothing. She heard the men talking about the war as one to end all wars. That no one could emerge unscathed from this cauldron of death without wanting to make a better world. Some thought that by protesting more their voices could be heard. Others sought refuge in duty to king and country.

Mary knew herself to well realize that she would not change as much as she should. She'd still love her position in society. Still want to go to London for the latest fashion show when they returned after the war. Still want to ride a new horse as fast across the uplands as possible. But it would always be tinged with the knowledge that she also needed to contribute more. To help more. To remember.

She was walking through the salon on her way to the nurse's station when she heard the side door of the small library open.

A voice in the distance was saying, "I'm sure you're right Matthew. But happily for both you and myself, that day has not yet come. I know you don't realize it now, but you will. When you have all the responsibility upon your shoulders."

"Thank you for your time Robert," was the curt response. And then to Mary's complete surprise Matthew walked out the door and straight into her line of vision.

"Mary…" Matthew, distracted from his tense interview with Robert, was taken aback to see her.

"What's this?"

"I..." Matthew's eyes bore searchingly into hers. As if trying to find the answer to an unasked question. "Can we go somewhere to talk? I know it's probably not the done thing, but I really would like to."

Mary, not able to bear seeing such pain in Matthew's eyes, quickly nodded. "Mama is out. We can go for a walk."

They left through the front door and took the gravel path around the side garden. When they knew they were alone, Matthew reach out for Mary's hand.

She took it instinctively, knowing from the desperate look on his face he needed her strength more than ever.

XX

The meeting with Robert been illuminating. Matthew wasn't quite sure why he had bothered to believe he could change the older man's mind. He was ever constant in the assertion the most important thing was the continuation of his line and title.

"I didn't ask you to use your influence at court on my behalf." Matthew had started. "I wanted to stay at my post."

"You weren't shy about asking when it suited you." Robert turned it back on him.

Matthew squirmed at that reminder. It was true when he wanted to get into the North Ridings he had no qualms about accessing Robert's connections within the regiment.

"Why did you do it?"

"After you going missing I decided it was best that you return to a safer assignment." Robert replied. "The Colonel suggested the ADC position and it seemed most suitable."

Matthew's mouth tightened. "You …you had no right to do that. I should be able to have some say in this matter."

"I had every right." Robert countered evenly. "You're very new to all this. You'll understand in time." He turned around and gave Matthew an even stare. "We all have different parts to play and we must all be allowed to play them."

"I don't think I'll ever want to run roughshod over whoever we like just to continue privileges that are quite outdated." Matthew blurted out. "One of these days you won't be able to do it."

Matthew started towards the library exit.

"I'm sure you're right Matthew. But happily for both you and myself, that day has not yet come. I know you don't realize it now, but you will. When you have all the responsibility upon your own shoulders you'll see."

Matthew paused in the doorway, his grip tight on the door handle. He was doing his best to be polite. "Thank you for your time Robert."

Only when he closed the door behind him and started to walk towards the front entrance did he see her.

"Mary…" He drank in her presence like a man starved.

"What's this?"

He stared. Just like when his eyesight returned and she was the first thing he beheld. Her eyes full of concern for him alone. "I…" He started to explain about the visit with Robert. But then, falling deep into the pools of soft brown eyes that beheld his own, none of that mattered any more. He needed to clear the air with Mary.

He needed to explain so many things. The trip to London had cast yet another shadow on his future with Mary. But he wouldn't let it stop him from having her know exactly how he felt. And what he wanted to ask her. Despite the fear that she might not want the same.

"Can we go somewhere to talk? I know it's probably not the done thing, but I really would like to."

She smiled softly. "Mama is out. We can go for a walk."

Once outside Matthew had started to reach for Mary's hand. A lifeline? He hardly knew his mind was so awash in guilt and anger. He just knew he wanted her close. Only when they turned the corner on the gravel path did he hold out his hand.

His eyes, doleful and in pain and yet so beautifully blue, gazed upon Mary. She took his outstretched hand into her own. How could she not?

"I'm sorry for not writing. I didn't know what to say." Matthew said as the moved along the path. How could such a beautiful day exist in this dark world, he thought. The sky was cloudless and the chill of the morning was gone. "So much has happened. I hope the incident last November when we went missing did not worry you unduly even as it has your father."

"What do you mean?" Mary stopped.

Matthew shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'll deal with things with Robert."

They had reached the stone wall where they had first conversed. Was it really only a year and a half ago they had been in this spot. Matthew had put down a handkerchief and she had condescended to sit next to him.

Matthew knew it as well. He smiled, "I don't have anything to put down this time." But he bowed slightly and gestured for her to take a seat first. "But it looks dry so I don't think you'll get your dress wet."

Mary feigned looking vexed and said dryly, "We all have to make do now."

Matthew chuckled. He couldn't remember when he last laughed. He took a seat beside her. "I've missed you Mary." His voice was so tender, so deeply felt it made her shudder suddenly.

"I did worry about you last year Matthew. I received your letter about Lavinia shortly after knowing you were safe. I knew you must have felt quite upset and there was nothing I could do to help."

"Nothing any of us could." Matthew's tone turned bitter. "That's what everyone tells me."

"And you don't believe it? Surely you know that these bombing raids are unpredictable. You couldn't know and be there to help."

"That's not what I mean…." Matthew struggled to explain. He needed for her to understand his train of thought.

"Then why do you think you could change it?" Mary's grip on his hand tightened. "Don't torture yourself so."

"I didn't have to join the army, Mary. Don't you see. If I had not done what I wanted to do…" He made himself say it, "…I used your father's influence to get into OTC. I didn't tell the medical board about the headaches or my peripheral vision loss so they would think my eyesight had fully returned. I went after what I wanted without thinking of any consequences and Lavinia died because of it."

"How could you know…"

"I couldn't. I know I couldn't. But if I had not joined the army I would still have been at St. Dunstan's that night she died. If we had been together she might not have been exactly in that spot at the time of the raid. It might have saved her. I was too selfish. I didn't have to do any of that. I let her down when she most needed me."

"If, If, If…" Mary vehemently rejoined. "Don't you hear what you're saying. You didn't ask for any of this to happen. Yes I suppose you could have been there. But none of us know the future. You're no different. Lavinia would not blame you. And she wouldn't want you to torture yourself for her sake. It won't bring her back."

"I know…" Matthew was subdued. He knew she spoke the truth. His left hand balled into a fist rubbed his eyes, wet from tears of grief and blame. "It doesn't make it any easier," he finally admitted.

They sat quietly, Matthew right hand still tightly clasped into Mary's.

Another thought troubled Mary. "For you to be there in London with Lavinia. That would also mean you wouldn't have ended your engagement. Are you saying you regret that as well?"

Matthew twisted his head to meet Mary's gaze. "No," he responded quietly in a more assured tone than Mary expected. "I've gone over and over this in my head for the past months. But despite all the guilt, I would do the same thing again. We can't go back and change the past. If life had been different so might the consequences."

He took hold of both her hands.

"It is what it is. And Lavinia was right to challenge me on my commitment to our engagement. I no longer felt the same way towards her. But in giving her back her freedom, it was supposed to allow her find someone to love her as she deserved not to die as a victim in a senseless war." Matthew stopped rather than allow his fatigue get the better of his discretion. They weren't supposed to have opinions on the ongoing war effort.

He slumped on the wall. Mary let him rest his head against her shoulder.

"How are things here?" Matthew tried to change the subject. Working his way towards the conversation he wanted to have with Mary. Working up his nerve that is…

Mary's own gloom was apparent in her response. "They go on much the same. We are getting more wounded all the time."

"Now that the Russians have pulled out and made their own peace with Germany, it will get worse on the western front. The Americans, however, will come in force this year and that might make all the difference." Matthew wasn't giving anything away with that information. It was common knowledge even if none knew the outcome of these events.

"We worry about Sybil's safety. She writes very little of course but I've heard from some of the men at the hospital that the VADs at the front are believed to be angels of mercy. I hope she's found whatever freedom she hoped to find."

"I admire Sybil's passion." Matthew said. "She knows what she wants."

"Of course." Mary replied. "But she doesn't always think things through. Papa is still quite incensed about the whole chauffeur incident."

"Do you know if Sybil is still in contact with him? Tom, right? Or has your father put an end to all that."

"He's off being an ambulance driver in the thick of it. All something out of a romance novel except for the very real danger." She shivered.

Matthew's arm slipped around her waist. He drew her close to him.

Mary did not protest. It just felt so right.

"And salty pudding?" Matthew's use of the private name only heightened the intimacy the two felt this moment. "I was concerned to read in your letter about his injury." He didn't mention seeing such wounds turn gangrenous while at St. Dunstan's.

"He's been made category C 3 and is mostly told to stay at home these days. He's moping and Edith is fearful that Major Stallan wants to stop the wedding altogether as he believes he was too hasty to ask her to marry an old cripple as he caustically puts it."

"That is no reason to stop the wedding." Matthew felt a rise of passion. "Not if their love is true."

He sat up straight and faced Mary. "Do you believe that?"

She knew what he was asking. She knew it without him even having to say. "I…" She faltered.

Matthew had gone with his instinct to say that. Maybe it was too much for her? He had no right to expect her to answer. "I know we have more baggage than the porters at King's Cross," he added to try to lighten the intensity of the moment. His voice hitched nervously on the next sentence. "For …Forget it. I…I had no right…"

Mary saw the doubt creep across his face. His eyes grew dim and fearful though moments before they had been shining and full of hope.

Those eyes, the mirror into his soul, was at the very heart of this conversation. Was she ready to face whatever challenges befell them? Could she honestly say she knew?

"What were you going to ask Matthew?"

Mary got his attention with that question.

"Are you sure?" He looked at her, afraid to move forward without confirmation.

"I am sure." She gave him reassurance. "Though I might not accept…"

"What?" Matthew's eyes flew open.

She smiled the most beautiful smile Matthew believed he would ever see. "If you don't do it properly."

He cocked an unsure eyebrow.

"I won't answer unless you… you kneel down and everything." Mary's face flushed as she realized this moment was truly upon them.

Matthew broke out into the most beguiling grin. "Of course my lady…"

And he stepped off the wall and knelt down in the grass before her.

They reclasped their hands together.

"Lady Mary Crawley, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

He looked so vulnerably honest in that moment. He was showing her all that he was. She could say no and break his heart. Or say she needed time to think. There was so much to think about. She had never done anything so reckless in her life.

"Yes." She answered.

Matthew's sharp intake of relieved breath made her giddy with excitement.

"Darling…" Matthew stood up. He put a hand around each of her shoulders and drew her to him. They kissed to seal their match. Starting softly it became deep and all consuming. Mary's body hummed with a kind of electric thrill.

Matthew let go, his face a delightful contortion of excitement and charm. She had said yes. He wanted to savor every moment of this. Every movement of her lips. The look of love that made her face glow. He reached out to her and lifted her up and into his arms. He spun her around gently and then let her down.

They kissed again, eyes closed but hearts open. Only then did Mary realize she never got an answer to a previous question.

"Matthew," She gently asked as they had sat in the sunlight, no shadows yet upon their happiness. "Why were you and my father arguing earlier?"

XX

 _Ah love… it always should win out right? Love to hear what you think! Lots of obstacles ahead…_


	13. Chapter 13

XX

"Mama it's just family for dinner tomorrow. Is that correct?" Mary asked as she and her mother were going over the hospital accounting books. She could hardly concentrate given the day's other activity.

She had left Matthew just an hour ago and she already ached to be once again in his presence. If this tingling all over her body was any indication of the joys of marriage to come, Mary could hardly wait. They were to tell everyone tomorrow night after Matthew had the opportunity to talk to Robert and make sure his mother would be available. He had returned to Crawley House hoping to telephone his mother and ask her to come home as he had something to tell her.

"Will she be able to come by tomorrow?" Mary had asked right before he was to take the gravel path to the left and towards the back gate of Downton.

"She's only in Leeds. She should be able to make it." He replied, his fingers tangled within hers. He took her hand to his lips and kissed the soft skin below her knuckles. "The tricky part is the wedding. She's leaving for the Mediterranean in early June….and" he paused, licking his lips in hesitation. "I want the wedding to be earlier rather than later."

Matthew lifted his head, his eyes upturned, hooded, wordlessly imploring her to agree with him. He inched ever closer. His lips parted.

She moved closer. Mary knew what he was doing. Showing her he had no more doubts with his actions. She knew his need because she felt the same.

They kissed again, this time Matthew's tongue tentatively yet tantalizingly explored Mary's mouth. He withdrew and her body pitched forward seeking that sensation again, needing him to continue rather than retreat. Matthew's hands slid around her back and they embraced. She heard his heart beat fast as she placed her head against his chest.

"We have to wait at least three weeks as the banns are read and maybe a bit more to choose and design the gown." She bit the side of her mouth. "I know everyone is dressing far more practically these days, but I do so want a traditional wedding dress."

"Of course, my darling." Matthew's arms tightened around her. He would give her the world if he could. "I want you to be happy on our wedding day."

Mary realized she could listen to him pronounce that endearment to her for the rest of her life and she'd never tire of it.

She needed some distance to think clearly so she stood back and they faced each other. "How can you know you'll still be in England in three weeks?"

Matthew had to admit, "I'm going to be in England it seems for the rest of the war because of your father's interference … erm…" He bit back the rest of that statement and started again. "Because I've been reassigned to duties with the regiment."

That slip gave Mary the insight she needed to understand the root of his frustration. "I'm glad of that, even if you are not." She ran her fingers down the front of his tunic pretending to smooth some invisible wrinkle. "We were all very worried about you. Papa must only be doing what he thinks is best."

Matthew relented, his happiness overcoming the last of his stubbornness. "You're right. He's only doing the king's bidding to save the House of Lords. I don't know that I support such an obsolete institution especially by removing serving officers from the front…"

"Not the words Papa wants to hear from his heir," Mary now realized the point of dispute between the two men.

"No," Matthew agreed. He pulled his cap off and scratched his head. "It seems I have a lot to learn about fitting in here. I'm not sure I can curb my own conscience though. These outdated privileges just won't wash when the war ends."

Mary admired his forthrightness but disagreed with his position. "Maybe you shouldn't state it quite so baldly when you speak with Papa next. You are new to all this…"

Matthew started to snap a retort back but stopped himself. Instead he remained calm. They shouldn't follow up a marriage proposal with an argument. "I'll talk to him again when I ask for his blessing."

Mary was relieved.

Matthew said, "I have a feeling our marriage is going to be full of good arguments."

"Indeed," Mary retorted with a sly smile, "You won't get off that easily."

They remained hidden from view so he snuck in one more kiss before taking the turn down the gravel drive. Mary waved and returned to the house, entering through the side garden door. She was immediately called into the music room by her mother to help her with the bookkeeping.

The feel of Matthew's lips upon hers still lingering, Mary took the chair at the desk and then turned to her mother to ask about the dinner guests.

"Yes. Major Strallan has decided to stay at home. Violet will be here as will Rosamund. I'm not sure your father's idea of having the two of them stay together at the Dower House was such a good thing. They're probably at each other's throats."

Mary chuckled, "Oh they love it."

"And it's much better than having her stay here and listen to her complain about all the racket the men make. She still acts as if the war is solely an inconvenience to her."

As if on cue they heard some of the convalescees laughing in the nearby ward.

The two women smiled. It was now always good to hear them laugh rather than the screams that sometimes punctured the air when the men tried to sleep and instead were terrorized by dreams.

Mary returned to her work.

Carson came in. "My Lady," he said. A salver in hand with an envelope on it.

Cora reached out her hand and realized it was a telegram. A worried exchange of glances with the butler only heightened the tension.

Telegrams had been sent to inform the family of Patrick's death. Or Matthew's missing in action.

She ripped open the content and read it quickly.

Rather know the worst.

But Carson was relieved when her ladyship's outcry was accompanied by a large smile.

The same eruption caught Mary's attention. She turned around. "What is it? Not bad news I hope."

"No no!" Cora reacted, handing the telegram over to her daughter. "The very opposite. Sybil's coming home. My baby's coming home. She's getting leave."

"When?" Mary scanned the telegram. "Why this was sent from Boulogne. She's already on the boat. She might be here tomorrow."

Cora's hands flew to her face. "Oh my goodness. I will tell Anna to give her room a good airing. She'll love sleeping in her own bed." She got up and started to walk out the room. "It will truly be a family dinner now."

Mary couldn't stop smiling either at the thought of all the family together. So much happy news finally to lift the gloom of the past year.

Maybe 1918 would be better all around.

"Mama…" Mary said suddenly realizing she couldn't keep her news a secret, "I have something I need to tell you…"

XX

"Are we allowed to have a moment's peace at dinner or will we be forced to share our meal with the wounded?" Rosamund strolled in to the dining room alongside Cora.

Cora hoped her sister in law was not overheard by Sybil. Her youngest daughter had sent word from London that morning she was on the train to York. Hodgkins had been sent to fetch her from the station.

It was so good to have all her children safe at home. And she did not want the moment ruined by Rosamund's insensitivity.

Just then her daughters appeared. "We have a lot of wounded. We disinfect and bandage but tetanus and gangrene are common." Sybil spoke to her sisters as they walked from the drawing room into the dining room. "But any more I'm not really allowed to say."

She was looking pale and thin Mary thought. So careworn. "How long is your leave?"

"I was told to take a month at least. Matron thinks I'm due a long rest. I didn't want to go but she made me."

"I'm glad she's so sensible." Mary surreptitiously glanced over at Matthew as he walked in to the dining room alongside Robert. She knew they had been talking in the small library. The two seemed to have put their differences aside as they agreeably discussed a recent speech by the American president regarding a negotiated peace to the war.

"We can always hope to a sooner rather than later end to all this." Robert said.

Matthew added more cynically, "I'll believe it when it happens." But the two stopped their private conversation as they became aware of the other members of the family.

Sybil overheard however, "One thing is for sure. We can't go back to the ways things were. I mean I can't believe we still dress for dinner. It's like coming back to fairy land after France. Nothing seems real here."

Matthew agreed with Sybil. "It's like something out of H.G. Well's Time Machine."

Violet and Isobel appeared through the doorway.

"Such talk will have everyone believe you're working for the Russians." Granny observed dryly. "Standard must always be maintained. It's the order of things. I hope you are not secret revolutionaries?"

"Not quite yet Granny." Sybil riposted. "But I am angry that the votes for women only went to those over 35. And that the government is insisting upon imposing conscription in Ireland."

"I don't think that's going to be implemented." Edith spoke up. "I read in the paper that the government is quite divided over it."

"Who can believe anything in the papers…"

"Is that the chauffeur speaking through you again?" Her father wearily interrupted.

"At least you're acknowledging his existence." Sybil rejoined. "That's some progress."

Robert grumbled but did not take his daughter's bait. "I seem to have lost all control over this family."

Cora was the diplomat. "Let's all have a pleasant dinner. Who knows when we all will be together again. I want my children happy to all be together."

Mary gently put her arm around Sybil's shoulder and squeezed. "Here here," and led her sister to the seat beside herself.

Matthew took the other side. He did it so stealthily that no one had chance to tell him it wasn't the proper order of seating. Matthew gave Mary a secret smile and a surreptitious wink. He leaned over, "I'm almost sympathetic to your father. We've all tried him to the brink."

Mary raised a bold eyebrow. "Did you smooth things over or make more waves?"

"I was extremely tactful." Matthew cheekily replied. "He's given us his blessing. Indeed, he said it was about time we came to our senses."

Mary grinned.

"What are you two conspiring about?" Edith looked over the table. "Do you have an announcement possibly?"

Isobel, seated beside Cora, glanced at her son. She had arrived by train from Leeds earlier in the morning and Matthew already informed her of the good news regarding his impending marriage to Mary. She had pangs of doubt about Matthew's rush to the altar fearing it had more to do with his eyesight than he let on, but she did not doubt his love for Mary. It simply poured out every time he spoke of her. She hoped Mary lived up to his beliefs.

Matthew's lips danced in anticipation of telling everyone but he first looked to Robert for confirmation that this was the proper time.

His future father in law nodded assent. Mary took his hand.

"I have asked for Lady Mary's hand in marriage and I'm pleased to tell everyone she's accepted and has made me the happiest man on earth."

"What?" Rosamund's disdain clear in her tone.

"Do be quiet, dear." Her mother rebuked gently. "No one cares to hear your opinion."

"It's the most wonderful news." Cora declared. Mary had told her mother in confidence about Matthew's proposal. She had hugged her daughter and wished them both the very best of luck.

"Of course it is. And about time too. Do you have a date for the wedding?" Sybil inquired. "I've only got a month before I go back to France."

"Don't remind me." Cora said.

"Marry in May they say," Violet reminded the newly engaged couple, "and rue the day."

"So April it is." Matthew slipped that in before any could protest. "Shall we say the last Friday of the month?" He glanced sidelong at Mary and winked. She squeezed his hand under the table. He was so very happy. But outside of Matthew's line of vision she caught her aunt's eye. She crooked her head and indicated she wished to speak to Mary later.

Mary tried to shake off her aunt's displeasure. Rosamund simply didn't understand how well the two of them got on. She'd explain it all when they spoke after Matthew and his mother left for the evening and they could talk in quiet.

XX

Mary walked beside Matthew to the entranceway. Isobel waited by the door. Hodgkins outside, ready to take them back to Crawley House.

Did Matthew sense something was wrong, Mary wondered as he turned to say good bye.

He gave her a searching look. "You are looking forward to the wedding?" He glanced back at her aunt. He knew Mary visited Rosamund in London when he was engaged to Lavinia. Indeed she was there the night his eye sight returned. What kind of influence did she have on her niece?

"Of course." Mary fortified his belief in their engagement. "Don't listen to my aunt. She doesn't know you like I do."

Matthew nodded pensively. "I'll be leaving in the morning back to London. I have a few things to clear up with Reggie's estate. And …" He swallowed, "the funeral."

Mary's eyes softened. "It will all be over soon. You're very kind to have taken all of that on."

He shifted from one foot to the other. "There is something else..."

"Matthew! Do come on!" Isobel waited in the chill of the doorframe, her coat tightly wrapped around her body.

Matthew rolled his eyes so only Mary could see at his mother's interference. "I'll tell you when I get back. It can wait." Instead he turned his full attention back to Mary. In an intimate tone that left no doubt where his mind had strayed he murmured, "I can't wait to start our married life. I'm looking forward to all sorts of things."

Mary rejoined intimately, "Don't make me blush."

He softly kissed her cheek, stepping back to look at her once more. He could not keep his eyes away. She was so beautiful this evening. He impishly tugged at her long necklace, "Good night."

He walked away, towards his mother.

Mary followed him with her eyes until Carson closed the door behind them.

"Noble sentiments, love and affection until the end of time, but it doesn't make for a successful marriage." Rosamund's snappish dismissal of Matthew's endearments brought Mary out of her reverie.

"Aunt Rosamund you can't know that. We get on so well." Mary was irritated. "You've not approved of him ever since he was named heir."

"I approve whole heartedly of him as heir. We don't have a choice. He's had some back luck with Lavinia's death, but we'll find him a suitable wife. But as a husband for you? No, you have better choices."

"Matthew is a university educated man. He's terribly clever. He's just been given a promotion to Captain."

"But he has no real prospects. You have to face facts Mary. We all hope my brother lives a long life. So it will be twenty, thirty years before Matthew becomes Earl of Grantham. What will he do until then? He has no money. No real connections."

"He's talked about pursuing a law career when the war ends."

"Be sensible. Can you really see yourself dawdling your life away as the wife of a country solicitor?"

Mary refused to be baited, "It's a respected occupation. It's something he wanted to do before…"

"Before he went blind." Rosamund bluntly finished that sentence. Her jaw tightened. "What if it happens again?"

Said with such a chilling indifference it made Mary shake with rage. "You don't know him at all. Or me."

"Can you really face life under such challenges? No income, no job, and a possible affliction that will make you nothing more than a glorified nursemaid? Will love be enough?"

Mary felt battered by her aunt's broadside.

"You're my favorite niece, the most like me." Rosamund said, not in the least even trying to sound modest. "I'm only saying what I think you need to hear."

"Thank you, aunt," Mary's judicious response. She knew there was no changing the mind of her contrary relation. Mary walked on, hoping she was not too much like Rosamund.

Did she have any doubts?

XX

"When is your wedding?" Sybil asked Edith. The sisters had gathered in Mary's room for a long talk before retiring to bed.

"I don't know…" Edith shifted on the window seat. Mary and Sybil were seated by the fireplace. "Anthony had a talk with Papa and the next thing I know he wants to postpone."

"Papa needs to stop interfering in our lives. We're not children anymore." Sybil grumbled. "I mean look at us. I'm nursing, you're starting to write articles for newspapers, and Mary's managing the hospital."

"And you ran away with the chauffeur." Mary reminded Sybil. "So forgive Papa for thinking he still knows best."

"He doesn't. He's got to grow with the times. Tom has been very brave in France."

"So you're still in contact with him?"

"Yes." Sybil admitted. "We write though we've not managed to see each other. He's in a different section of the front. He's not allowed to say much of course, but they are the first to treat the wounded. They get the worst of it. Under fire. … " She stopped. There was so much blood she wanted to say. So much unspeakable horrors on a daily basis.

Mary noticed the shadow cross Sybil's face. "He's not been wounded I hope?"

"Do you?" Sybil asked pointedly. "Do you really care? He's a good man. As good as Matthew."

Mary reached out to take her sister's hand. "I hope to get to know him better and trust in your belief of his good name and his war service. It will go a long way with Papa I think."

"It's true." Edith added, "I think he might relent when the war ends."

Sybil answered Mary's question. "He wasn't wounded. But their ambulance was involved in a raid. It was upturned and his co-driver fell out and was injured in the leg and liver. Tom had to carry him to the aide station."

Edith and Mary didn't have to imagine the rest. Many of those injured like that ended up at Downton, convalescing and trying to restart a life without a limb or suffering from injuries either to the mind or the body.

Sybil shifted the conversation, "there are women drivers as well. VAD's who have had motor training and other volunteers in the Munro Ambulance Corps or FANY. Even Papa couldn't object as most of the FANY drivers are titled ladies. Of course class distinctions still exist as others of lower stations are not accorded the same respect and are given more menial tasks." She sighed. "Even trying to get away from it I find it."

"We've all been changed." Edith said. "And it's what we do now that's important." She turned particularly to Mary. "I'm very happy for you and Matthew."

"I don't want our wedding to overshadow your own.. We can postpone…"

"And change that look of utter joy on Matthew's face? No I can't do that." Edith smiled, "I will have a long talk with Anthony and see if I can't change his mind. It's his arm I think. He feels useless in the world anymore but with me as his wife and helpmeet we can work his estate together."

Edith had overseen their aunt speaking with Mary in the salon earlier in the evening. "You don't really want to postpone do you Mary? You can't let Rosamund get to you. She's always more concerned about appearances..."

"I am concerned with appearances," Mary harshly pointed out. "You of all people know that. And while much of it seems meaningless now, I suspect when we get back to normal I won't have changed all that much."

"What is normal?" Sybil asked, "We can't go back as whatever it was doesn't exist anymore."

"I'm not sure that's true." Mary replied. "We might like to think it should but people will go back to their old attitudes. Class and money and appearances will always matter to people like us."

Sybil glared.

"People like me then," Mary revised. "I love Matthew dearly. But I'm not sure Rosamund is entirely incorrect in reading my personality. I don't want it to become a barrier between us."

"Then don't let it." Sybil beseeched her sister. "Remember what we said when I ran away? We must fight for what we love. I know I will fight to the end to get what I want. You and Matthew deserve happiness. Don't let it slip away."

Mary idly felt the third finger of her left hand. Matthew had promised he'd return with an engagement ring once he chose the perfect one in London.

"Thank you, Sybil darling." Mary curled up in the chair, the warmth of the fire heating her face. She needed it as she felt chilled to the bone. She needed Matthew. She felt such an emptiness now in her heart whenever he was away from her. She knew the irony of that as well. The woman who always said she didn't have one now feels the ache of its absence. "Don't worry so. You know me. I'm never down for long."

XX

 _So yes challenges ahead…but we knew that right? Fair warning: rating will go up to M in next chapter…erm…reasons!_

war/wwi-wednesday-women-ambulance-drivers/


	14. Chapter 14

XX

"I didn't realize my home was available to let for all occasions." Violet struck the floor repeatedly with her blackthorn cane. "Will the ladies sewing circle be next? Or perhaps the Girl Guides?"

Rosamund looked up from her cup of tea nonplussed. She clucked, "We must all do our bit."

Violet was having none of her daughter's patriotic fervor. "Really dear? Since when? I don't remember you taking in any Belgian refugees when Millicent asked it of you in 1914."

Her daughter sniffed. "That was different. I couldn't have lice ridden farmers in my front room could I? Lord Hepworth's horse charity should go down well in the country. He says they are being treated most ill by the army."

"And did he get the government's charity adviser Sir Edward's approval or did he create this fund himself?"

"Mama what are you insinuating?"

He's a fortune hunter, my dear. A pleasant one, I admit, but a fortune hunter." Violet was blunt. "If he's involved in this so-called charity you can bet he's running the racket for himself. He's just as bad as these war profiteers."

"I like his company." Rosamund declared. "I can handle him."

Violet looked skeptical. "Who else will be in attendance so I can warn them not to donate any money or time to this venture."

"The whole family will be coming. A few London friends. Some county people." She thrummed her fingers on the sofa sidearm, looking triumphant. "I'm hoping Tony will come as I hear from his mother he's on leave."

Violet suddenly understood. "You want to change Mary's mind, don't you? Turn her against young Matthew."

"Why are you in his corner? He's a nobody."

"He's the heir obviously. But he also declared that if the entail had gone in Mary's favour he would not have put up a fight. I rather liked his loyalty. And it's clear they're in love."

"Love has nothing to do with it. We'll find him a suitable wife. Someone who will be grateful for the status elevation while not being overly greedy. Haven't you said yourself couples can be perfectly happy in a marriage even if they don't speak to each other for years?"

"And Mary?" Violet inquired dryly. "What plans do you have in store for her? I assume this has something to do with inviting Lord Gillingham?"

Rosamund's eyes glinted with devious delight. "I intend to make a match there. She's known him since childhood. He's a ranked peer from a long standing noble family. Well connected. Perfect."

"Isn't their house a hospital now?"

Rosamund shrugged. "So is Downton. After the war it'll return to their hands."

"So many have not. Ruined families are all around us. I fear for the future."

"Which is why we need to secure Mary's. If all goes down the drain, Matthew can take the blame and Mary will be safe."

"You married beneath you."

"Marmaduke was a rough diamond to be sure." Rosamund sipped her tea, refusing to take her mother's bait. "But he was also rich. And when he died he left me well put by."

"Don't let Lord Hepworth hear too much about that," Violet had to have the last word. "I'm quite sure he'd know how to relieve you of that burden of wealth."

XX

Mary looked around the room. Matthew said he'd be there by no later than 9pm. He would take the train from York right after the staff meeting he told her over the telephone from regimental headquarters earlier that day.

"This will be your last chance to escape." Rosamund sidled up beside Mary.

Mary had just about enough of her interfering. "Why should I want to?" The wedding was the following Friday and she could hardly wait.

"Think Mary…"

"I am. I love Matthew." Mary responded evenly, but then slyly added, "And didn't I tell you Aunt Rosamund? He's about to become a wealthy man."

"What?"

She knew that would get her aunt's attention.

"He's told me that Reggie Swire has left him his entire fortune barring the finding of one lone man in India…a Mr. Pumpkin or something…"

"Well well…"

"Does that change anything? Will you stop having Lord Gillingham follow me around the entire party now? Please call off your dog. I'm not interested."

Just as she spoke the words another voice answered. "I hope I'm not included in that."

Mary turned to see Charles Blake looking resplendent in his naval mess kit. "Charles," Mary exclaimed pleasantly. "How lovely. I wasn't expecting you tonight as well." She glared in her aunt's direction. Rosamund tutted and murmured as she walked away to leave them together, "you'll see I'm right. Always good have a spare beau around, especially if Matthew's money turns into a puff of smoke."

Mary refused to be rattled and returned to talk civilly to Blake. Rosamund's interfering had nothing to do with him.

"I was invited by Tony." Charles explained. "We both had some time off and tomorrow we head for London."

"I see. I didn't know the two of you know each other."

"We serve together on the _Iron Duke_."

At that very moment Tony walked over. He too was in the dark navy dress uniform. "Your aunt was insistent we come to show the flag so to speak in order to encourage donations." Gillingham laughed. "But I didn't mind. I wanted to come to see you."

He moved closer to Mary.

She edged away.

"Keep that dance up and you'll both be out the front door. I think the lady's trying to tell you something old man." Charles smirked.

Tony glowered. "How about I get you something to drink." Tony deliberately ignored Blake and spoke directly into Mary's eyes and moved to take her elbow to guide her over to the sideboard.

Mary, however, twisted away as someone's entrance caught her eye. "Excuse me gentleman," She dismissed their attentions with a flick of her hand and, with a deliberate swish of her gown, left them in her wake.

Matthew had arrived. He was wearing his service uniform as he had left immediately after the regimental staff meeting. He felt a bit underdressed and hoped Mary wouldn't mind. She didn't seem to care as he watched her cross the room. Saw how she had handled Tony Gillingham and Charles Blake.

Her suitors…erm…he smugly corrected himself… former suitors. The announcement had been in all the London papers but most probably these men had not seen any of them as they were serving on the North Atlantic.

Mary only had eyes for him. Deliberately slowing her pace so he could watch, knowing how much he enjoyed it. Their own private way of both easing and enlivening the tension they felt before the wedding.

Mary approached.

"Will I have to brush up on my powers of fascination?" He leaned into her.

Mary's body tingled at his intimate tone. She couldn't resist and slid three fingers across his tunic. She winked coyly, "absolutely. But preferably after Friday."

Matthew brushed his lips against her cheek. He saw her aunt's disparaging glance from across the room. "I don't think everyone approves of our marriage."

"Take no notice," Mary walked in the opposite direction from her aunt, "she's had her plans upended."

They walked towards a quiet window seat. "What's the news on Mr. Pumpkin?"

Matthew chuckled. "Pulbrook." He sat down beside her. "It's all still rather complicated. The lawyer's been unable to get any information on his whereabouts. He's not been heard from for months."

"So what does that mean for you?" Mary's curiosity apparent in her quick response.

Matthew didn't really want to talk about it. "Not now. Let's just sit and you go over all the relations that are coming for the wedding. I'm getting them all scrambled in my head."

Mary backed off, understanding his unwillingness to speak. Memories of Lavinia still pained him. She wished she could do or say something to assuage his guilt. He had gotten over most of it, but some lingered.

"Great aunt Beryl will most probably fall asleep during the ceremony and snore," she joked instead. "She's a dear but she's also 90 years old."

Matthew smiled and relaxed. "I'll listen out for her then. Might do wonders for my nerves."

"It's traditional for grooms to be nervous." Mary's eyes darted around the room. Rosamund, as hostess, circulated among the guests. She was currently occupied by flirting with Lord Hepworth.

She glanced over to Matthew. "We've been tricked you know."

His eyebrows narrowed. "Really? How? Isn't this yet another fashionable charity event? I'm sure they do much good but they're also the only ways people can gather socially without it looking like they're being unpatriotic."

"Well I don't believe anything this Lord Hepworth says. Granny is convinced he's a charlatan who's only out to commit some fraud in the name of a good cause."

Matthew's finger slowly moved across his lips as he considered what Mary said. "It's more common than you might know."

"Really?" She was completely distracted by his mouth.

"You hear things at all the parties and gatherings I attend as ADC. Most I cannot divulge but that's why the government had to create an oversight board. Some private charities are not openly fraudulent and truly want to help specific causes like war orphans or like St. Dunstan's those injured by the war. But Lord Hepworth's so-called Horse Relief Fund is not the only shady operation of this sort."

Mary snorted. "Might serve Aunt Rosamund right to get her nose boxed after her shenanigans this evening."

"What now?" Matthew leaned in closer.

Mary arched an eyebrow. "She's been trying to maneuver me into Lord Gillingham's arms all night."

"Can't have that…" Matthew whispered into her ear. He was so close, "Can we?"

"No…" Mary followed his fingers as they trailed seductively down the arm of her sleeve. "We certainly cannot…"

They turned hungry eyes towards each other.

After a few minutes where time seemed to stop and they were the only two people on earth, Mary looked over and saw Rosamund in conversation with Tony and Charles.

The moment struck her as the perfect time to end this once and for all.

She guided Matthew over.

Rosamund got in the first volley, "Mary why don't you ask Tony about his adventure at Jutland…"

Mary blatantly ignored her. "Lt. Commanders Foyle and Blake. I'm not sure you have been formally introduced…" She deliberately enfolded her arm around Matthew's, "to my fiancé Captain Matthew Crawley."

Rosamund's face pinched at being outmaneuvered by her niece. Tony's mouth fell open in bewilderment, but Charles recovered easily. "How do you do. I believe we were both at Downton for Lady Sybil's Christmas fete."

Matthew shook Blake's hand even as he gave Mary a side-eyed glance. He knew he should feel annoyed at being treated like a prize pig at market, but he knew it was Mary's way of dealing with her aunt's interferences. She was positively glowing with delight. "Very nice to meet you," he answered Blake. Since Tony was still in apparent shock, Matthew ignored him.

Mary triumphed at her aunt's displeasure.

Rosamund tried to recover by turning towards the startled Lord Gillingham, "What my niece means is…."

Mary narrowed her eyes and directed a cold gaze at Rosamund. "Is there room for misinterpretation?" she dripped with sarcasm, keeping her arm entwined in Matthew's who gazed adoringly at his ever so clever fiancée.

Mary guided the two men towards a table where punch was being served, recounting a story about how Edith had misplaced a prized first edition Dickens only to find it in a potted plant stand with no memory as to how or why she left it there. The three left Rosamund and Tony in their wake, red faced and speechless.

XX

The party was winding down and eventually they were released to go back to Downton. It had started to rain and the family gathered quickly in the Rolls Royce. Hodgkins drove them back home.

Cora and Robert made a move to retire upstairs.

Her mother turned, looking concerned. Mary said, "It's all right Mama. You can leave us unchaperoned. After Friday all things are permitted."

"Don't embarrass me," Cora blushed but left the two alone. "Good night Matthew."

Matthew walked around the salon's front hall, musing "how many moments of Crawley history has this room seen?"

"And many more to come."

He moved towards her after glancing up the stairs to make sure they were alone. "Come and kiss me."

Mary's face was cast downward but she looked up at him. "Shall I order the car again?"

Matthew, amused at her ignoring his rakish request, answered "I don't think I can make the poor man go out again. I'll walk back to Crawley House."

"It might start raining again."

"Then I'll get wet." He held his hand in front of him for her to take.

Mary started to take a couple steps towards him, then stopped. She folded her hands in front of her.

"So, if they can't find Mr. Pillbox…"

Matthew, resigned to never getting that kiss, put his hand down. "Pulbrook. And they will find him."

But if they don't…"

"Why does it matter so much?" Matthew snapped. "I don't understand why you're so interested. Is it because I have money all of a sudden?"

Mary tensed at Matthew's reproach. "It's just so maddening not knowing."

Matthew paced around the salon. "I will know soon enough. Then I…" He looked at Mary. "Or we will decide what to do."

He made another attempt to take her hand. "I can't keep it. I know that much."

Matthew's doleful eyes met hers. "Please understand."

"I'm trying. But it was given to you in good faith. And could help set you up in life…"

"Because I'm incapable otherwise? You don't want to follow me where I have to live on my wits? Maybe you should have taken Rosamund up on Lord Gillingham's offer."

Mary put a hand to her brow. "Don't say that. I choose you."

"Then you'll have to take me as I am." Matthew declared. "Or not at all." He gave her a small smile and took his leave. "I will meet Joseph at the train station in the morning. We will all be at the luncheon tomorrow as Mother's arrived back from Leeds."

Mary watched as he opened the front door and left. The rain poured onto his head and shoulders. He fixed his cap and flipped the collar of his uniform jacket around his exposed neck.

He didn't look back at her.

XX

The following day didn't break the tension between the two of them. Joseph had arrived on time and as best man he was being introduced to the rest of the family before everyone gathered in the dining room.

Matthew hovered behind him, afraid that Joseph would bump or jostle Granny Violet.

Mary was on the far side of the room, standing next to her sisters. Neither looked towards the other.

"Lady Grantham." Joseph bowed slightly as he extended his hand.

Matthew cringed, knowing it was the privilege of a superior to offer or withhold his or her hand but as blinded individuals they were more used to reaching out first to make it less awkward on each party.

Violet didn't seem to mind, however. "Mr. Hanson," she accepted the handshake.

Matthew tried to calm his nerves but the previous night's heated discussion with Mary combined with Joseph's arrival had put him on edge.

He tried to guide Joseph towards the divan without giving the appearance of doing so when his friend's cane swept forward and struck the wooden leg of a decorative stand. The vase atop started to wobble and then crashed to the ground.

"Joseph you clod watch out." Matthew spat out before he could bite them back.

His friend ignored him and instead spoke to the dowager. "I'm very sorry. What was it that fell?"

Violet moved swiftly to rectify the situation. "No need to apologise young man. That was an ugly wedding present from a frightful aunt. I've hated it for half a century." She then took Joseph by the hand and they moved towards the divan. "Sit down and tell me all about this remarkable fencing ability Matthew has told us so much about."

Matthew turned only to see Mary's face turn a rather embarrassed shade of red. He closed his eyes and stalked towards a corner of the room.

Carson called everyone to luncheon. The meal occurred without further incident. Matthew, Isobel, and Joseph all prepared to return to Crawley House. Neither Mary nor Matthew said a word to each other.

"We're turning you out or it'll be bad luck for tomorrow." Cora tried to be humorous but everyone sensed the obvious tension between the bride and groom.

"It was a lovely lunch." Isobel covered for her morose son who hovered in the doorway. He nodded and quickly stepped outside.

Joseph walked behind.

Isobel let the two young men walk ahead of her, letting them resolve their differences.

Matthew fell into stride with his friend so Joseph could keep up. "I'm sorry for what I said back there Joseph. I didn't mean it."

Joseph nodded, accepting Matthew's apology. "The bigger concern is this rift with Mary."

Matthew shoved his hands in his uniform trousers. "It's to do with this Swire inheritance. She doesn't understand why I can't take it. She's too aristocratic to ever turn down someone offering money."

"Is that all of it?" Joseph wondered. "I think you need to speak to her."

Matthew muttered something incoherent.

"As best man I see it as my duty to make sure the wedding goes off as planned. Why don't you walk back and ask to speak with her?"

Matthew stopped in his tracks. "What? Really?" He looked back towards the house. Isobel overheard Joseph's suggestion and nodded agreement.

"Maybe you're right." Matthew knew they had to settle this before the wedding. He had to talk to Mary. With more need than confidence, he started back towards Downton. When he reached the threshold, he hesitated and turned to take a walk around the garden first to settle his mind.

Sybil saw him out the side window and came outside. "Matthew?"

"I… I wanted to see Mary. But I don't know where she is or if she wants to see me."

"She's upstairs in her room." Sybil glanced back inside. "I can take you there if you want. Follow me."

Matthew had to smile. There was nothing Sybil liked more than skullduggery. They slipped in through another side entrance and up the stairs before anyone saw.

"Her room is to the left down that corridor."

Matthew hesitated.

"Go do it. You know you two won't be happy with anyone else while the other walks the earth. I feel the same about Tom. Hasn't this war taught us to never take that for granted?"

Matthew knew she was right. "Thank you."

With an encouraging push from Sybil, he started down the corridor and knocked lightly on Mary's door.

"Who's there?" Mary's voice from inside.

"I just need a word. Come to the door."

'Matthew?" Mary's voice was a bit faint but got stronger as she moved closer to the barrier between them.

"I won't look at you." He tried to joke.

"That's only if we're getting married which given our quarreling maybe we're not. Maybe we should be brave and back away if our differences are so divisive."

"No, my darling. We are getting married. I know we'll fight all the time. About money, about how to raise our children. Any number of things…" He trailed off as his voice got thick with emotion.

"And that's good? How can it be?"

Matthew's eyes closed. "I'm not sure. I just know the truth about something Sybil just said. That I will never be happy with anyone else as long as you walked the earth. And… I think you feel the same about me."

There was no immediate response. It was agony not seeing her. How could he live without always seeing Mary every day of his life?

"Can I kiss you?" He reached out and put his hand on the door. "Because I need to very much."

"Only if you close your eyes."

He smiled to hear the humor in her voice. "Only if you do the same," he riposted.

"You musn't cheat." Mary stepped back as the door opened. She knew how much it hurt Matthew to close his eyes to the world. Would he do it for her?

She had to cheat a bit to see if he did it for her. She flicked her eyes open and sure enough his were closed. He walked slowly around the door, a gentle smile on his face.

She shut hers again quickly and approached him. Her hand forward until she felt his uniform. Her hand slid up to his face. A memory flooded into her brain of another time with closed eyes feeling his face.

Having his fingers touch hers.

The very first time they met. Did she know even then she would marry him?

His cheek. So warm. So soft.

She touched his lips. Rubbed them slowly. They kiss. Matthew pulls away reluctantly. He knew this did not resolve their differences. Nor his fears. But he felt in her kiss the desire and the passion he too felt. Surely that would be enough to guide them into an uncertain future.

"Good night." He said softly.

"Good night."

Mary removed her hands from his chest. She heard the handle of the door as he grasped it.

"You will be there, tomorrow? Right?" Matthew asked in jest. "I can be completely sure you will?"

Mary wouldn't let him off that easily, "I assure you of one thing, dearest Matthew. I will never be that predictable."

A low, resonant chuckle was the last thing she heard as the door closed behind him.

XX

 _Ok… we'll get these two married and off to their m rated honeymoon (hehe) in the next chapter I promise! But there is a lot of baggage at King's Cross station to still deal with. ::hint—there will be no Robert losing all the money in a bad investment:: Robert in this story is far more sensible and we'll be dealing with more likely scenarios of life at Downton after WWI and the far more personal struggles of Mary and Matthew dealing with married life._


	15. Chapter 15

_I hope you enjoy the wedding. This chapter is M rated in the second half._

XX

The music crescendo of John Stanley's Trumpet Voluntary in D meant Mary and her father had entered the church. Matthew stood at the other end of the nave, waiting for his bride to stand beside him. He knew Stanley had lost his eyesight at two years old in a freak accident as he fell on a marble hearth and so the chosen piece was particularly both poignant and appropriate. Isobel had tried piano lessons when he was first blind to occupy his time but Matthew was never that keen and gave it up within a year.

Matthew turned away from Travis.

Robert had endeavored to get the Archbishop of York to preside over ceremony but he was at a council of religious leaders in London. Many relatives were absent from the wedding as well. Cora's mother Martha Levinson had no way to cross the Atlantic during war. From the stories Matthew had heard she would have been quite the guest of honour.

But for himself he was glad when he looked around the small but beautiful church that it was just immediate friends and family. His mother sat in the pew behind, a happy supportive smile on her face. He knew she had misgivings. It had been just the two of them for so long. After his father's death. The onset of his blindness. She was his rock. And now she'd have to accept that Matthew would confide in another. A woman Isobel doubted could fully handle the truth about Matthew's condition. She had brought it up late last night after Matthew had returned from Downton. His meeting with Mary at her bedroom made him a changed man. Everyone noticed it. He wouldn't say what happened as it was private between himself and his fiancée but dinner was a relaxed affair. Matthew showed Joseph upstairs to the guest room and returned downstairs.

His mother had remained in the drawing room.

"Are you going up?" Matthew had asked. He was tired and still floating on air after Mary's kiss.

"Matthew," his mother spoke quietly. "You know I want nothing more than your happiness." She sat with her back to him, facing the fireplace.

"I know."

Isobel turned and said what she had to say. "Do you believe Mary has the strength to handle it?"

He knew what she meant without her having to explain. "I don't know Mother," he answered in all honesty. Matthew walked over and crouched down in front of his mother's chair so they could see each other face to face. "I don't know that I have the strength to go through it all again. What I do know is that I am stronger with her. I don't want to go through my life without her."

Isobel had gazed into her son's eyes. Eyes she had known since he first opened them in her arms minutes after he was born. Eyes that had known light, shade, and darkness and never lied. She had expected to see a touch of anxiety in them on the eve of his wedding. Even fear. Instead she saw nothing but the truest, bluest eyes that shone with love. Eyes that willed her to trust him on this.

And so, she would.

They caught each other's eyes in the church with a quick affirmation before he turned to watch Mary walk down the aisle. A vision in white, he was frustrated the veil covered her face.

Matthew needed to see her face. To know she was as happy as he.

Mary walked slowly towards him on her father's arm.

She had felt flustered, out of sorts after Matthew had retreated down the hallway the previous afternoon. When he had once again pledged his love and sealed it with a kiss. A kiss made with the promise fulfilled that she could trust him. He said he would close his eyes and not peek. And he did so even as she did not. He was so unlike any man she had ever known. He could be testy, obstinate, and quick to take offense when he thought his personal sense of morality had been violated. Like the money. She knew that discussion was far from over. But it meant, truly meant to her, that he was a good man. A man who wasn't out for her title, her status, or her father's estate but wanted her because he loved her.

And she loved him. She had spent the evening before the wedding as she had done many nights of late with her sisters in conversation. Their bond had grown so close of late. Of course, it didn't mean she would never tease Edith again. Or despair at Sybil's penchant for danger. But they had overcome many of their adolescent differences and could speak openly to each other.

Edith had been the first to speak after Mary had reassured them that all was well between her and Matthew. Both sisters had noticed the tension between them at lunch. Mary indeed had wondered how Matthew had found his way to her room, but then noticed Sybil's knowing grin as they gathered later that night and she knew her little sister had guided her wayward fiancée upstairs.

"Joseph is very interesting. Amazing how he can manage such a dangerous thing as fencing given his affliction."

Mary shivered unexpectedly, then shook it off and snapped, "Why? He's learned to adapt. I think it's practical."

Edith withdrew from further comment. But Mary noticed that as well. "You have something to say?"

Sybil sat forward.

"We… we just know that you like things just so." Sybil said.

"Meaning?" Mary didn't like the direction this conversation was taking.

"We all like Matthew." Edith tried to reassure. "And we see the love between you two but …"

"What if he goes blind again?" Mary cut to the chase. "Isn't that what you want to ask? You've both spend these past weeks practically ordering me to marry him and now that we are you're doubting my strength of character."

Edith and Sybil exchanged anxious glances.

Mary turned to each sister in turn. "I'm not angry. I know you know me all too well and have my best interests at heart." She reached out and they all held hands. "And I wish I had a better answer. But the truth is I don't know. We've never really spoken about it."

"But won't that make your marriage difficult? Not ever being able to bring up the subject?" Edith asked. "Anthony won't talk about his arm and I know I fear it will become a barrier between us."

"Not if your love is true…" Mary said almost under her breath.

Edith gripped her sister's hand tighter. "You believe that?"

Mary nodded. "It's what Matthew said to me on the day he proposed. I was telling him that Anthony was considering postponing because of fears of his age or his incapacity and Matthew responded 'Not if their love is true.'"

Edith's lower lip quivered. "That's so lovely of him."

"He said it with such sincerity. Such goodness. It made me love him all the more actually. And believe that our marriage would work despite any obstacle. Because our love is true." Mary suddenly shrugged her shoulders, trying to lighten the mood she added, "but then I also think I will never reach such levels of goodness and what does he see in me at all?"

Sybil snorted, "That's true enough."

"Oh you…" Mary let go and touched Sybil's cheek. "Don't do anything too revolutionary when you get back to France."

"No promises." Sybil smirked slyly. "How much honeymoon time do you have?"

"Not much." Mary answered. "General Strutt has some big tour of the midlands and the Cornish coast planned for early May. Matthew has to get back to Grantham Barracks by Tuesday."

"So just a long week end?"

"It's not a lot of time." Edith said.

Mary had given a little pout, "True." Then she arched an eyebrow and added, "but unlike Granny, I know exactly to what purpose a week end can be used."

She now walked towards Matthew confident in the love they shared. At the end of the nave she and her father completed the walk down the aisle. The organist finished the Trumpet Voluntary and the church grew quiet.

They exchanged quick glances and smiles before the rector began the welcome " _Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony_ …"

Matthew, so handsome in his red mess uniform, stood proudly beside his future bride.

Travis asked, " _Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?_ "

Matthew's declarative affirmation, "I will" reverberated in the church.

Travis turned to Mary, " _Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?_

Matthew raised a questioning eyebrow at the obeying bit. He didn't believe it for a minute.

Mary, noting that smirk from her groom decisively replied, "I will." It was part of the traditional vows. Even if she fully intended to be a very modern wife.

 _Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?_

Robert let go of Mary's hand and stepped forward slightly. Robert responded that he did so. He met Matthew's eyes and the two men bowed their heads in mutual understanding that Robert was committing his beloved daughter's future now to this man and Matthew accepted and embraced this trust. Robert then stepped back to the pew and sat beside Cora.

Mary moved forward to stand beside the man about to become her husband and Matthew followed Travis's instructions to put his right hand into Mary's to finish the wedding vows and plight their troth.

They loosened their hands. Joseph stepped forward and placed the ring in the hands of the rector of St. Michaels and All Angels who gave it to Matthew. Matthew placed the ring on the fourth finger of Mary's left hand, beginning the last of the vows "with this ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow…"

He couldn't help himself but as he spoke gazed over to Mary. He knew the irony of saying those vows knowing the difference of opinions they had on his worldy goods.

Mary's eyes shone with love for sure, but also a touch of mischievousness.

Matthew smiled, suddenly and completely sure in what they were doing. They were surely to have a lifetime of good arguments. And it was going to be marvelous.

XX

"A beautiful service." Violet declared to Isobel. The two older women were seated in a corner of the library as guests circulated holding flutes of champagne and plates of the wedding fruited cake. No one asked how Mrs. Patmore had managed under difficult wartime rationing.

"A beautiful bride." Isobel responded.

Mary and Matthew circulated around the room greeting the guests. Her gown was a long silk sleeved custom pearl-beaded silver lace tabard gown with silk underlay crowned with a family heirloom floral diamond tiara. It fit her slim form to perfection after she had made several train trips in the past week to the London dressmaker. Matthew was in his North Riding open front, scarlet colored waist-length short jacket with dark facing and matching regimental waistcoat, and long trousers.

Matthew had been left alone to talk to some of the county gentry. After a long discussion on the relative merits of growing peas versus potatoes to meet the nutritional needs of the boys overseas Mary rescued him on the excuse of having to introduce him to yet another relation but when they were alone she said, "You're welcome."

He laughed but leaned down to whisper in her ear, "When can we go to Crawley House?"

The two had discussed honeymoon possibilities, limited as they were given Matthew's responsibilities and the war cutting off all possible overseas excursions. Matthew had made it clear London was out as well. It was dangerous, he had said to Mary. She noticed his face grew pale and his eyes hooded when he spoke. Too many memories as well she realized. The answer became clear when Isobel had informed Matthew her tour of the Mediterranean was about to begin and she needed to be at Dover by the early part of the next week. She would go on ahead and leave them Crawley House for the honeymoon.

It was a perfect solution. Mary had arranged for Anna to pack a small case for Hodgkins to stow in the car for the short journey after the wedding reception but Anna would not be joining them. Rather Mary would be alone with Matthew at Crawley House as he had asked they have complete privacy for their wedding night.

"Soon."

They exchanged longing looks before both were asked to join the family outside for some photographs.

"You're so beautiful." Matthew clasped her hand.

"This way Captain please." The fusty photographer snapped his fingers and demanded they all remain perfectly still.

The photographs were taken. And they were released.

Matthew drove Joseph and his mother to the train station using the Vauxhall touring car that he would later use to drive himself and Mary to Crawley House. Joseph was to return to St. Dunstan's and his mother would then take another train to Dover. Matthew did worry about this extended tour of the Mediterranean Red Cross operations that would see his mother as far away as Malta. The Germans did torpedo hospital ships either on purpose or by mistaken identity. But Isobel was determined to go and Matthew could see his mother's war work gave her a renewed purpose in life.

He kissed his mother's cheek. "See you soon."

Isobel tightly embraced her son. "Take care. You and Mary were the picture of happiness today."

Matthew's face flushed as memories of the wedding ceremony flooded his mind. The exchange of vows. The ring he put on Mary's left hand. The removal of her veil so he could finally see her face.

The kiss that sealed their commitment.

He was a very happy groom indeed.

Matthew helped his mother into the first-class compartment and then returned to do the same for his best man. Once again he apologized for his previous incivility. "You've been a very good friend to me Joseph. I hope you know that."

"I do, old man." Joseph held out his hand for Matthew to take. "Mary's a ripping girl. She'll keep you in line."

Matthew laughed and guided his friend up the train steps, Joseph's cane sweeping out in front of him.

Waving to his mother as the train left the station, he turned back to return to Downton.

At the same time Mary was upstairs in her bedroom changing clothes. Anna had already laid out a silk blouse and narrow skirt for switching into once the wedding gown was removed and packed away.

"Everything ready?" Mary asked.

"Yes milady." Anna was concentrating on the row of buttons on the back of the gown. "There is the matter of breakfast. Mrs. Bird has suggested leaving a few things in the kitchen ready for tomorrow. I could arrive early in morning and put it together on a tray."

Mary's face twisted around. "I don't think Mr. Crawley would object to that. I certainly would like hot tea and toast in the morning. I'll tell him to expect you."

Anna nodded and continued the unbuttoning.

"And now that I'm married I want you to be my lady's maid. I've spoken to Mama and she's agreed. You won't have to divide your time anymore between all of us. Besides once Edith is living at Strallan Hall she'll have to find her own anyway."

"Thank you." Anna had hoped this would be the case. "And the other thing…" She bit her mouth, hesitant whether to bring it up as Lady Mary had so much on her mind.

A broad smile threw away those concerns. "Yes Yes!" Mary excitedly answered. "I also spoke with Papa about the estate cottage. You and Mr. Bates can move in as soon as you like. With your own marriage you deserve your own space I told him. That cramped corner room upstairs is not suitable. He's agreed but it might be not until after this wretched war that everything will be painted and fixed for you to move in."

"If Lord Grantham doesn't object milady Mr. Bates and I can paint and patch whatever is needed. I don't mind putting a hand in. Not if it means a home of our own."

"That sound more than possible. I'll put it to him as soon as I'm back next week."

Anna briskly finished removing the wedding gown and carefully placed it on the bed for a proper packing later that afternoon.

"I wish you and Mr. Crawley all the happiness in the world." Anna said as she returned with the silk blouse.

Mary reached her arms out as the blouse was slipped around her shoulders. "Thank you. I'm sure we will."

She knew Matthew waited below anxiously so they finished dressing quickly. She descended the stairs to see him waiting with immediate family by the front doorway.

Carson stood nearby.

"There you are darling." Matthew smiled and walked over to her, taking her hand. "Are you ready?"

"Absolutely."

She kissed her mother and father's cheeks in turn and hugged each sister.

Matthew had walked ahead and got in the Vauxhall to start the motor awaiting Mary's arrival.

Mary paused at the door, noticing a proud and happy look on their butler's face. "Did I do Carson?"

If possible the butler's smiled even more broadly, "Very nicely my lady."

Mary walked through the door and out into the sunshine. Matthew stood beside the car, holding the door open.

He looked so handsome. She approached and as she got in the car whispered giddily, "We did it."

Matthew shut her side of the car and walked around to the driver's side. "On to the honeymoon," he said sitting down behind the steering wheel. And with a wave to the family they turned down the gravel drive.

XX

Mary waited for Matthew to open the door and then followed him inside. He went back out to lift her case out of the car's back seat and brought it into Crawley House.

The house was dark and quiet. Mary had opened the door to the drawing room and walked inside, a shaft of light guiding Matthew's way when he followed behind.

Matthew walked the case up the stairs and into the guest room that he used whenever he previously visited his mother. He had never really lived at Crawley House as she moved in after he joined the army. He then walked downstairs.

Mary turned as he entered the drawing room and strided over to gather her up and into his arms. "Alone at last."

He was trembling. "Are you nervous?" Mary asked.

Matthew blushed. "A little," he admitted.

"Good." She felt his arms tighten around her. "I'm glad I'm not the only one."

They giggled. He put his lips to hers and kissed her lightly. He let go but knew he wanted so much more.

"I'll wait down here shall I?" He moved so that she could get past him.

Mary nodded.

He pointed up the stairs. "It's the room to the right off the landing. I put the case on the table at the end of the bed."

"I won't be long." Mary skimmed her hand slowly across his jacket, her eyes heavy lidded, as needy as his own. She walked back towards the entrance way.

Matthew's tongue moved across his lips and watched her ascend the stairs. Once out of sight he paced around the room finally settling down on the settee after taking off his jacket and vest and carefully laying them down on a nearby chair. He undid the bow tie and unbuttoned the top button.

How long should he give her? She would usually have her maid help her retire for the evening. But Mary had gone along with his wish that they be completely alone even if it was for this night only.

This was their night. Their endless night of love. His body thrummed in a sense of heightened sensation. Everything seemed to float around him. To be just out of focus. As his thoughts, his dreams, his very being was attentive entirely upon Mary.

Was she ready for him?

He took the stairs two at a time and turned to right. The door was ajar.

"Come in…" Mary's voice quietly enticed Matthew as he hesitated with his hand on the door handle.

"How did you know I was there?" He poked his head around. Mary was at the night table in a Chinese patterned silk gown and robe, brushing her hair.

She raised one eyebrow seductively. "I just knew."

Matthew walked all the way into the bedroom. Mary reached out to him. "Would you like to?"

She had just taken the pins out of her hair. Matthew's fingers tingled as she beckoned him over to release her long tresses from their captivity with his hands. Matthew firmly clasped her skull and drew her hair through his fingers. A shattering sensation assaulted his body and he fell back a step. And yet it was so pleasurable he wanted it to continue forever.

Matthew was mesmerized by the cascading locks entwined in his fingers. The light making it seem a stream of water flowing through them, dappled and shifting color. He almost started to cry but bit his lip to stop it. Mary's eyes were closed, lost in the sensation of his touch, and so did not see and he was grateful. Tilting his head down he shifted a few strands to kiss the nape of her neck. His nose brushed her skin and his lips caressed her neckline, delicately at first and then with a growing intense passion.

She smelled of lilacs and orange blossoms.

"Darling…" He murmured.

Mary felt his hot breath on her skin. She leaned into his touch, a hand reaching up to caress his cheek. They nestled together. His kisses burned sweetly and she stretched to allow his lips to slip along the curvature of her neckline. He edged closer to her chin, her mouth and then their lips met again as if their life depended upon this touch. This kiss.

Breathless, Matthew reluctantly broke their connection. Mary smiled at him through the mirror and handed him a silver handled brush. He started to brush in long, even strokes, taking his time.

He gazed into the beveled mirror to see that Mary's eyes were closed again, her body relaxed.

"I'm so very glad you never got that boy's style haircut."

Her eyes fluttered open. "I never really seriously considered it," she admitted. "More I was trying to goad Sir Richard. He was so possessive."

"He did beg to be teased." Matthew riposted. "Good to know that you and Lavinia bested him. Maybe it will make him a better man."

She shrugged. "Probably not." Turning her head up, Matthew bent down to kiss her again. "Shall we?" He followed her eyes towards the large canopied bed. To Mary's surprised delight, in one move Matthew lifted her body into his arms and carried her over to the bed, laying her down gently onto the quilted bedspread. His hand slid around her body to release her from his grip. His hand brushed against her breast.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and turned. Matthew couldn't turn away quickly enough so Mary saw how his eyes devoured her with an intensity of focus. It was like he was taking in everything, savoring it and. His eyes closed, capturing it in his mind forever.

A bit embarrassed he averted his eyes and settled down beside her. His hands retreated to brush along her arm, the half-sleeved silk robe exposing her alabaster skin. Gently Mary guided his hand back to rest upon her left breast.

"All things are allowed…" She encouraged.

Matthew's eyes fluttered, his mouth fell open as if to speak but nothing came out. He tried again, "Mary, I love you so terribly much."

His hair was mussed and curled upon his head. One rebellious strand tumbled down his forehead. She brushed it away with her hand. How could she ever remain angry at him? His honesty and frankness frightened her if she was truthful to herself. They would find a way to overcome their differences. She wanted to be with him forever.

She reached over to kiss his cheek. He turned and their lips met in a searing kiss. Matthew's arms encircled her body and drew her to him. Their heat shared between two bodies. Mary's fingers fumbled to undo his shirt. "Let me." Matthew reluctantly left her side, feeling a shaft of cold when they parted. He unbuttoned the shirt, having already removed the collar and tie earlier and peeled off his trousers.

Mary used the opportunity stand up and remove her silk robe, taking each side simultaneously and pulling it off her shoulders. Her hair flowed around her now bare shoulders. She shivered slightly.

"No one to light a fire…" she joked. "You had me send Molesley away for the week end."

Matthew stood, entranced watching her exquisite movements.

She tucked under the quilt, opening up the side so Matthew could follow. The early spring evening chill had settled on the house. He lay back down next to his wife in his undershirt and shorts. "I think I can manage on my own…" but his arms once again encircled Mary's. "But..." He brought her closer as his voice grew deeper and more intimate. "I also know other ways of staying warm."

Mary's audible sigh of happiness was the only answer Matthew needed. They cuddled for several minutes under the covers. Matthew's hand began to slide down her bare arm.

Mary felt the frisson as his skin touched hers. She wanted so much more. His hands moved towards her shoulder, removing one side of the nightgown. She slipped her arm out and he pushed the rest aside to reveal the red tip and rounded form of her breast. The hairs raised on the back of his neck as he cupped it in his hand. So soft he began to massage until it elicited an unexpected groan from Mary. She moved further into his body so that they spooned together. He kissed her shoulder. Her skin. Eventually his desire overcame his shyness and his lips teased and his tongue lapped her nipple.

The panting got stronger. Matthew tasted. He touched. He savored her smell. Her every fiber, muscle, and sinew. He gently grasped her erect nipple with his mouth and with his loose hand he stretched trying to remove the other side of the nightgown. Mary's hand reached his and helped him. The gown came down around her waist and his body arched as his arousal grew, his tongue roaming down towards her bellybutton. Craving to touch every part of her.

Mary's hands reached out and with one swift action removed his undershirt. Matthew's own hands discarded his shorts and immediately returned to his ministrations. His hands, curving around her naked form and taking a buttock in each hand, began to massage each simultaneously. She responded by wrapping her legs around him. They moved purely on instinct. She opened herself to him and he thrust inside. Her breathing became labored, short gasps in quick succession.

Matthew became suddenly afraid he had done something wrong. Something to harm her. "Is ..Is …"

She didn't let him finish. "Go on…" She said, her eyes almost rolling back in her head as she thrust her body forward to meet his actions. She gasped in pleasure as he reached the ridge that sent soaring waves of pleasure coursing through her body. He responded without hesitation. His thrusts were deep, focused. They clung to each other. Her hands moved against his backside driving him in further. They rocked in unison until his shuddering climax surged and made him spasm and his back stiffened and released. He felt suddenly prickly, sticky with sweat.

Mary, her hair splayed out on the pillow, looked like a goddess. Her eyes were closed, a dreamy smile on her lips. He fell back against the sheets, moving slightly he noticed a small stain of blood. Suddenly he felt mortified. He knew this was normal for the first time, but he never wanted to hurt Mary. He cradled her in his arms.

Despite the heat generated between them during the love making Mary shivered. Matthew pulled the quilt up. She opened her eyes to see Matthew once again trying to capture the moment. "My love…" Her tone, so intimate, so aware of what they had just done. He kissed her and laid down beside her. She closed her eyes again and rested her head upon his chest.

Both fell into a slumber, their passion slaked for the moment.

Matthew woke first. He carefully extricated himself from the bed without waking Mary. The room was now quite chilly. He walked into his dressing room to put on new undershorts and locate some pyjama bottoms. Putting on a new undershirt as well he returned to the bedroom and scooped some coal from the scuttle into the fireplace. After a few moments of effort heat radiated from the coals and he stoked it a bit to keep it going.

"Hmmm…Lovely." Mary lifted up on an elbow, the quilt falling to reveal a bare shoulder and a hint of décolletage. "Come back to bed." Her hair was a mass of tangles.

"I've made you untidy." He jested.

"Good." Mary teasingly replied, beckoning him with an outstretched finger. "I'd like you to do that again. What say you?"

Matthew stood and smiled, "I'm yours to command."

XX

 _More honeymooning—talk and other things… in next chapter. Then a cold return to the real world. I hope everyone is enjoying reading this story as much as I am in writing it. Reviews are so always appreciated._


	16. Chapter 16

_More M rated honeymooning in this chapter._

XX

Mary and Matthew lay entwined limb within limb. Cuddled tightly under the quilts and sheets, the morning light barely visible through the curtains. Neither wanted to move.

"Good morning darling." Mary rubbed her finger along Matthew's jawline. It was stubbly and rough, exciting her in ways she would never have imagined. She had never even seen a man that was not clean shaven or trimmed with a beard. To feel it for herself struck her in a raw, unbidden place in her body. And it was delicious.

Matthew kissed her finger when it reached his lips. He heard a noise outside the door. "Who's that?"

Mary spoke softly in his ear. "Anna. I asked that she bring us some breakfast on trays."

Matthew turned his head towards Mary, frowning.

His wife dryly observed, "don't worry. Anna won't be shocked to find us _en déshabille_. She is a married woman."

The side of Matthew's mouth upticked into a smile and he gave her a wicked side eye. "As long as we're left alone again. I'm not done with our honeymoon yet."

Mary chuckled. She answered with a "come in" when Anna quietly knocked. She walked in and very quickly put down the tray on a side table near the fireplace and opened the heavy drapes to let in the sunshine, leaving the inner sheer layer closed to give them privacy.

Matthew almost unconsciously pushed the quilt up higher over his arms.

"Thank you, Anna." Mary said. Her lady's maid nodded and closed the door behind her. "Coffee. Lovely." Mary made a move to get up.

"I'm not sure I'll ever get used to people walking in and out while I'm found in your bed." Matthew watched as Mary lithely lifted herself off the mattress and slipped on her Chinese print robe. She padded around the floor barefoot towards the table with the tray and brought it over to the bed.

She lifted a knife from the tray and spread some jam. "But it's very nice, right?" She leaned over seductively, lifting a piece of toast for Matthew to take.

Matthew opened his mouth and bit down. "Ah…" He licked some of the jam off his lips. "As nice as nice can be." He removed the tray, placing it on his night stand and drew Mary closer for a sticky kiss.

"Oooh…" Mary pouted, "I wanted some coffee."

"It'll keep." He gave a sly wink, "I've got something much better in mind."

Mary gasped in anticipation as he slipped her robe off and began to kiss the hollow spot between her breasts. And then her eyes drifted shut as his ministrations towards her body reached lower down onto her torso.

XX

Mary adjusted the tray on her lap. Dressed once again in her nightgown and robe she poured each of them a cup of coffee.

Matthew leaned over to accept it. He was lying towards her at the foot of the bed.

"I feel positively decadent." Mary said. "I've always joked about being able to eat breakfast in bed when a married woman. But to lie in all morning…" She practically purred in contentment as she stretched luxuriantly. "I do wish you had more time." Then added quickly, "I didn't mean that to sound so selfish. We've so much work on at the house the days are a whirl of meetings, inventories, and accounting."

"We'll take a much longer trip when the guns stop."

Mary noted the cynicism in his voice. "And when will that be? This horrible war seems endless."

Matthew shook his head. "Maybe now that the Americans are well in it we'll make some headway against the German spring offensive." He pushed his fingers in his eyes and rubbed vigorously.

"Is anything the matter?"

"No." Matthew changed the subject, smiling quickly. "What should we do later?"

Mary looked out the window. "It's seems a perfect day. Why not a drive? We could stop somewhere and take a long walk."

He leaned over and put his cup back on the tray, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. "I think that's an excellent idea." Leaning over he kissed Mary's lips.

"And maybe I can take the wheel along the way." Mary said as the kiss ended.

Matthew couldn't resist the opportunity to tease his wife. "I heard a story from Edith…" He started to recount.

Mary interrupted. "I missed that street lamp entirely. Edith exaggerates."

She sniffed and threw back her shoulders defiantly.

"Of course." Matthew tutted, tactfully siding with his wife but his upper lip twitched leaving Mary in no doubt he was humoring her.

"I'm quite certain I can manage that clutch." Mary determined. "Maybe after our drive we could take a long walk to catch all the sunlight."

Matthew felt the stubble on his chin. "Let me make a start on getting ready." He walked to the end of the bed and then paused. He looked at Mary who made a face as she pushed her fingers through the tangled mass of curled hair that fell loosely around her shoulders.

He of course thought she looked more beautiful than ever, but he had already learned not to say that as she'd disagree simply on the principle that women of her status always needed to appear well groomed when in public. So he asked, "do you want to recall Anna to help with your ablutions?"

Mary had not wanted to let on as she knew Matthew wanted them to be quite alone. "I can manage to put a few pins in my hair…. It will be fine under a scarf and hat." She gave him a brave smile.

Matthew strode over and, taking her face in his hands, gave her a deep kiss.

Mary fluttered her eyelids, "My, my husband. What was that for?" She seductively pulled him down for another long kiss.

"Just for being you." He stood up, knowing if he stayed next to her face a minute longer he'd never leave her bedside. Walking purposefully over to his dressing room door, Matthew turned and said "It's in the hallway by the way," he paused.

"What?" Mary tried to ask innocently.

He arched a cheeky eyebrow, "The telephone."

Mary shrugged as if she didn't know what he meant.

Matthew chuckled and opened his dressing room door and closed it behind him.

But as soon as she heard the click Mary lifted the tray off her lap and pulled her robe close to her so she could slip out of the room to find the table with the telephone.

XX

"Ready?"

Matthew stood next to the B Type Vauxhall, the motor running.

Mary walked out of Crawley House, perfectly coiffed and adjusting her scarf around her shoulders. Anna walked just behind.

Matthew didn't even try to look surprised. He knew Mary realized he had heard her lady's maid in the other room as he finished shaving and dressing. "Do you want a lift back to Downton?"

"No thank you sir," Anna answered. "It's a lovely day and Mr. Bates is going to meet me near the cottages. Lord Grantham has said we could take our pick and we decided to spend the afternoon viewing them so we can select one of our choice."

"Very well." Matthew opened the door on the passenger side. "Thank you for looking after my wife. I know she appreciates your help."

Anna smiled and briefly waved as she walked down the lane beside Crawley House to take the short cut back to Downton.

Mary touched Matthew's shoulder and he turned. She kissed his cheek, "thank you."

He smiled knowingly and got in the passenger side of the Vauxhall.

At that Mary was visibly astonished.

Matthew reached over to open the driver's door from the inside. "You said you wanted a turn."

Mary hurriedly walked around the front and got in the car. She glided her gloved hands along the steering wheel.

"The clutch is a bit sticky." Matthew warned, "and it's baulky when you try to speed up too quickly."

"Where shall we go?"

Mary put the clutch into neutral and then shifted into gear. Matthew relaxed just visibly enough for her to say, "You don't have to worry."

The car then jerked to a sudden stop. Mary grunted in disgust.

"Give it another try," Matthew encouraged.

She pressed the starter switch once more and the engine turned over. This time the car moved into gear smoothly and they were under way.

Mary drove into Ripon where they stopped for a light lunch at the Wakeman's House and then down a country road back towards Downton.

"You look a bit windblown." Matthew said, lifting some strands of hair from across Mary's cheek.

"Let's stop and take a walk."

Matthew got out and walked over to open Mary's door. "Where are we?" He looked around and knew they were somewhere on the estate but he had never been there before.

"At the stables. The army requisitioned all the horses back in 1915 and we've only a couple of old mares out to pasture left." Mary shaded her eyes and trained them out towards an animal in the distance. "There she is…" And started to walk towards the fence.

Matthew followed and stood silently as Mary coaxed the horse over towards her, nickering under her breath to nudge the mare out from under the tree where she had taken shelter.

She took off her gloves and dug deep into her left pocket pulling out an object Matthew couldn't quite see until he walked closer.

Mary had an apple in her hand. The mare whinnied and trotted over, nudging her muzzle under Mary's hand so she'd stroke her. With the other Mary gave the apple to the mare who grabbed it between her teeth and chomped down.

"I asked the owner at Wakeman's if they had any." Mary informed Matthew. "I knew it would be a treat."

Matthew smiled. "You miss riding, I'm sure."

"And their companionship." She mimicked her sister, "'You get along so much better with your horses maybe you should sleep in the barn."'

Matthew chuckled.

"To which there was only one retort." Mary laughed. "I said, 'better the barn than to have to share a room with you.'"

"Edith always seems to fall into your trap."

Mary gave a playful shrug but said, "we get along better now but I doubt we'll ever truly be close." She turned, "I don't seem capable of that level of trust."

Matthew reached out to take her hand. "Really?" He kissed her palm. "I don't believe it."

"I didn't think I was." Mary accepted his hand as he placed on his chest, next to his heart. Their fingers intertwined. "Everyone told me I was frivolous. Selfish. Sir Richard once called me cold and calculating."

Matthew muttered an oath under his breath, "bastard."

"I think he meant it as a compliment." Mary said. "To demonstrate that we thought the same way. We were both untrusting and full of suspicion about other's motives. I was defined by the fact I was an earl's daughter. On the market to Papa's highest bidder. I rebelled rather ineffectually by trying to make a game of the suitors plighting their troth with me when I knew all they wanted was the title I offered."

"And then there was me." Matthew's grip tightened. "You didn't think much of me at all."

"I…" Mary hesitated. She wanted to say it was untrue. That she loved him from the first, but both knew that wasn't the case. When he first arrived at Downton with his mother she had dismissed him as weak and bothersome. She settled on, "you were so very different from anyone else."

"Because I was blind?" A bitterness edging into his voice.

"Not just that." Mary responded softly. She knew this was Matthew's deepest fear. "When we got to know one another, it was as if you looked right through me and found my soul. The part of myself I kept from everyone else. You seemed to find it so easily."

"I merely followed my instinct that you were more than you claimed to be. Your voice was too perfect, as if it was affected somehow. It wasn't your own." Matthew drew her to his chest. "I can always tell now when you're putting it on."

"I'll have to be more careful then…" trying to maintain an irreverent tone, but realizing the conversation was really quite serious.

"I don't mind if you do it towards others." Matthew answered evenly. "As long as you never try it with me. I want only to ever know the true Mary."

"How do you know which one that is?" Mary queried more solemnly. "I'm not even sure I know."

"My Mary is the true Mary," he replied. His voice warm, comforting. "I will love that Mary all the days of my life. I only wish I trusted my instincts earlier. To reach out to you before…" He cut off.

"Before?"

He swallowed hard. "Before I ruined Lavinia's life." He held up a hand as Mary began to protest, "I pushed our engagement past the point where my affection had changed and she had to find out that betrayal with her own eyes. I saw the pain in them when I spoke to her later. I never meant to cause pain to anyone, particularly one in whom I had feelings of affection if not love."

"Is that why you're so adamant about not taking Mr. Swire's money?"

"It was given out of a spirit of fidelity."

"Even though he didn't change it after your breaking things off? After Lavinia…" Mary paused, seeing Matthew flinch as he finished the sentence in his own mind. After she had died.

"He was too sick." Matthew answered inadequately, knowing that really wasn't the case. Swire had called for the lawyer in Matthew's own presence. He knew the older man still had all his mental faculties intact.

"He wanted you to have it Matthew." Mary said quietly, once again taking his hand into her own. "He knew your situation." She knew he'd flinch again at that but it had to be said. She was his wife now. She had to be the one to say it to him.

"It doesn't feel right." Matthew slumped against her shoulder, the weight of it all too much for him now to bear alone.

They stayed silent for a few minutes, birds calling sweetly to each other from the nearby trees.

Matthew knew he was being irrational on this issue. Had his circumstances been different he could argue that he'd have his whole life to make his own fortune. But it could just as easily be the case he'd be a burden on the family, blind and sick, unable to contribute to society.

It was the thing that kept him awake at night. That gnawed at his mind. That disturbed his utter and complete happiness with Mary. He could not do that to her. He knew the answer was before him and it was only his pride that would take a bit of a beating to do the right thing.

He finally said, "If I take this money I would want at least half of it to go towards helping gassed and blinded soldiers. They will have absolutely nothing when the war ends. A pittance from the government that won't go far to feed their families. But St. Dunstan's could train them for work and I want to invest in a business venture that would see them employed in occupations that would give them not just income but pride and self-worth."

Mary was speechless. She had no idea Matthew had even entertained the idea of taking the Swire inheritance. "Why that sounds wonderful."

"You won't mind if I use a portion of it for that purpose? It would make the taking of it all much more palatable."

"Darling I am on your side." Mary said firmly. "Will you run it?"

"Yes," Matthew nodded. "I need to speak to Sir Arthur and Ian Fraser back at St. Dunstan's but I know they're setting up annexes to the Regents Park location to house and accommodate all of the wounded. Perhaps Robert would be open to also settling some of them in the unused cottages as well. Perhaps even setting up the factory near Downton Village."

Mary could see the light come back into Matthew's eyes as his excitement grew over the possibilities surrounding how he could use the money to good purpose.

"Shall we get back to Crawley House? I must admit I hope you asked Anna to set up some food out for our return. I'm famished." He clapped his hands together and started towards the car. "I'll drive back." And he opened the passenger door for his wife.

Mary tucked her dress around her as she took her seat. "I did ask that she inform Mrs. Patmore to keep some things warm on the sideboard."

"Excellent." Matthew grinned and started the motor. "I can't wait to find out what the evening has in store."

XX

Their last night of the honeymoon was upon them. It was theirs to make of it what they would.

Mary reached out a long slender limb, inviting Matthew to take her hand. He took it and then glided his fingers first along her wrist, then forearm. His touch was light, loving, slow and measured. Making him breathe hard. He then moved towards her shoulders. Playfully he hesitated.

Take it off." Mary pleaded, her sudden need overwhelming her sensibility. "I want to feel your touch on my skin." She had never felt such a rush of pleasure. Nothing, nothing her mother or granny ever said had prepared her for the heady sense of lust she felt as Matthew possessed her. Such carnal desires she had thought the imaginations of spinster gothic writers of the 19th century who knew nothing about the realities of marriage.

It could never be possibly that good.

Until it was. Until Matthew. Until their mutual love showed them how to touch, how to feel, how to make love to each other. Like in an orchestral arrangement. First the buildup. The crescendo. Then the climax. She gave over to it entirely. Her head was spinning from all his delicious exertions upon her body. She fit her thighs against his groin. Wide and inviting. She felt him push his shaft inside her and started to stroke, her body rocking in syncopated rhythm to his own. His lips came down upon each of her breasts as he kissed and kneaded each peak with his tongue.

At first she wanted to prolong her pleasure. The sensations that assaulted her-so different, so much more enjoyable than she ever expected. She felt electric spasms course through her, like fireworks bursting and fluttering. She dug her nails in against his rear, forcing him to be guided by her need, her desires. Shattering waves of desire followed and she sank into a kind of ecstatic oblivion.

Matthew looked up to see Mary's enflamed cheeks. Her mouth open, but nothing but low rising moans emitting from her mouth. He kissed her lower lip and then the curvature of her neck.

And then his own climax took over and he surrendered to the incendiary explosions that wracked his body. Numb and prickly with heat from his exertions, Matthew fell against the bedcovers. Mary lay beside him, equally exhausted.

"You are radiant, my darling." Matthew finally spoke when his breath returned.

She curled into his body, never wanting to leave any space between them. His warmth became hers.

There they stayed for the rest of the night.

XX  
 _Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, favorites this story. I truly appreciate everything you say. A few hints to the future in this chapter…_


	17. Chapter 17

XX

Cora shuffled the papers on her desk. The Red Cross inspectors were in the library annex completing an inventory of medical supplies. She awaited their instructions regarding new requirements so as to coordinate with vendors and sources.

Her eyes traveled to the door. Not for the inspectors, they'd be hours yet. But Mary had slipped out again for unknown reasons. The two other times she had done the same thing that morning she would return, looking even more slightly off colour.

Cora's fingers tapped the desk. She needed to talk with her daughter. And soon. If what she thought was happening was actually happening.

Mary walked back into the music room. Was it some kind of stomach flu she wondered? So many people in the house at present. Nurses, soldiers, doctors, visitors moving in and out. Maybe she picked up something. It was most vexing as it kept her from finishing the accounts books. She wanted to show the Red Cross inspectors the latest figures and prove they weren't excessive in their use of bandages or carbolic soap.

She sat down at the table when she was struck with yet another wave of queasiness. She groaned which seemed to garner her mother's attention.

"Mary?"

Mary waved off her concern. "I'm fine Mama. I must have picked up a virus from the hospital."

"That's one possible explanation…" Her mother agreed.

Mary turned around. "What else?"

Cora coaxed her daughter to understand for herself. "How long has Matthew been away?"

Mary sighed. "Seven weeks."

She missed him fiercely. His face. His smile. His voice. His touch. Their time together had been so achingly short.

"His last letter said they were in London for a series of social gatherings. He's convinced his general to go to St. Dunstan's as a goodwill gesture to greet the men from the regiment treated there for gas blindness."

"That's a wonderful idea."

"He hopes to be back in York by mid-July if all goes to plan." Mary sat back against the seat, rubbing her stomach. It was still churning.

Cora stood up and moved closer to her daughter. "Seven weeks," she repeated thoughtfully.

Mary's eyes narrowed. "Mama?"

"I think we should pay a visit to Dr. Clarkson."

"He's with the inspectors now…"

"No." Her mother clarified. "In his office."

Her daughter's eyes opened wide. "I'm not that poorly I assure you…"

Cora patted her daughter's hand. "Oh Mary. Of course you're not poorly. It's quite the opposite."

Mary didn't catch on at first but as her mother's smile widened cheek to cheek her eyes fluttered and her hands flew to her stomach once again. "Do you mean…?" She could hardly speak the words. It had seemed so unlikely as they had only the one week end on their honeymoon.

She met her mother's eyes, her voice faint. "Am I with child?"

"I believe it might be so." Cora nodded excitedly. "I want to have Dr. Clarkson examine you. Do you think you can do that? It will require a certain delicacy…"

Mary swallowed. "I can." Her hands were shaking. "Should I tell… tell Matthew?"

"Not yet." Her mother advised. "Let's see what the doctor says first."

Mary tried to return to her work but she could not keep her mind on the figures anymore. A baby? My goodness.

As night fell upon the house, the convalescees were unusually silent. Mary, upstairs in her bedroom wrote to her husband.

 _Dear Matthew,  
It's so quiet tonight. I had not realized how used to the noise generated by the patients I had become. It's almost unnerving but I will take it as a good sign that all the men are improving and on the mend. The Red Cross inspectors are gone and I think left with a good impression. _

She was about to write on the trip to Dr. Clarkson which resulted in a confirmation of her pregnancy. She was just seven weeks along and would deliver the baby in the new year. The certainty of that had not fully sunk in yet. It seemed so unlikely that she'd be with child after only a brief honeymoon. They had made love on many occasions that weekend and a baby was the natural result of those intimate encounters, but she had expected it would be months before she would be pregnant.

How unseemly some might say, Mary mused wickedly. She rubbed her stomach, recalling Matthew's touch that grew more urgent with each brush of skin against skin. She shivered in delightful memory.

Taking up her pen again, she decided merely to hint at news she wanted to tell him rather than inform him completely. She wanted to see his face when she told him he was to become a father.

He would the happiest of husbands.

 _I have some news to tell you but I will await your next leave so we can be together first. I miss you so terribly. Papa is at a regimental dinner, Sybil has gone back to France, and Edith is in London and I'm so very short of family members at present. Aunt Rosamund also has finally returned to Painswick House but only after it was discovered her latest admirer Lord Hepworth was found, oh how shall I put this? In Flagrante delicto with her own lady's maid! Serves her right I should say for how she behaved so abominably towards you at that charity event at the Dower House. I'm sure the sting will pass and she'll be her old self soon enough._

 _All my love,_

 _Mary_

XX

"St. Dunstan's encourages the men to learn a trade and return to society as much as possible." Matthew spoke quickly to General Strutt as they left the car and walked towards the entrance of the hostel within Regents Park.

Every time he returned to St. Dunstan's Matthew felt assaulted by a range of emotions. He was grateful for how the hostel took him in and trained him to work with wounded soldiers. Helped him realize his potential to be useful rather than continue the comfortable isolation that had accompanied his life after going blind. But it was also a series of unforgiving reminders of that time. The putrid smells of decaying flesh and vomit. The sounds of the men screaming in pain from the blistering inflammation of their skin and eyes. The dull and despairing tone of the voices of family members as he had to break the news that their loved ones would never recover their sight.

And then his had. His life changed in an instant. All his dreams had come true. Of course he now realized the costs along with the gains of those dreams. Those lessons would live within him and hoped they would make him a better man. More charitable and aware of how he treated others. He was getting more comfortable with taking Swire's legacy as he had decided to act, not as an heir who would spend it in selfish splendour, but as the altruistic trustee of someone else's money. He'd work to make sure it went to enhance the lives of others.

Which was really the reason he was here at St. Dunstan's. He did want General Strutt to tour the ward and see for himself what he had been talking about with regards to the innovative treatments underway but it was also to talk to Ian Fraser who was second in command at the house. Sir Arthur Pearson, the chairman was away on business. Both men were blind themselves. Pearson because of glaucoma in middle age; Fraser a result of a German bullet on the Somme striking the posterior cerebral artery and causing cortical blindness.

Matthew wanted to know the ins and outs of running St. Dustan's as a charitable endeavor. If he hoped to do the same in Downton Village he'd need considerable knowledge of everything involved. His post war plans included taking the solicitor's exam and be admitted to the bar in addition to starting a factory hiring those who had finished their time at St. Dunstan's. Ideally doing both he'd be able to stay ahead of any potential legal red tape.

While in London he also needed to stop by his ophthalmologist in Harley Street, but he shoved that issue to the back of his mind for the time being.

The entourage of the General and ADC's entered the front door of St. Dunstan's. They were expected and Ian Fraser and Mrs. Chesney were there to greet them. After introductions they began the tour of the wards.

Matthew lagged behind and looked around. Usually he sidestepped the wards and went straight to the courtyard where Joseph trained the fencers. This time he walked beside the matron, winding their way carefully between the cots.

"We've not seen you since last year Matthew. Joseph told us about your marriage and we couldn't be more pleased." Mrs. Chesney spoke fondly.

"Thank you, Matron. "Matthew beamed at every mention of his marriage. The happiest days of his life were those few spent with Mary at Crawley House as husband and wife. He was counting the days until they could be together again.

A voice from one of the cots in the corner of the ward caught Matthew's ears. "Sister? Could you write a letter please? My mater expects one at least every other day. I did think they might visit but.." He coughed. It seemed the young man couldn't go on, emotions choking his words back in his throat.

Matthew knew that plummy, stiff upper lip tone. At least he thought he did. Sam Lewis, his friend from uni before the war. This forced him to look up and scan the ward. All the patients had layers of bandages that took the shape of gruesome masks which obscured their faces and took away their humanity. But then it suddenly occurred to him there was no point in trying to figure out which face was Sam's.

Matthew had no idea what Sam looked like. He only knew him when he was blind.

But that voice, that voice was so familiar.

"Matron? Do you have a list of patients in this ward?"

"I can find one. Who do you want to know about?"

"A Samuel Lewis?"

She moved towards a desk and asked a duty nurse and turned back to Matthew. "Yes. He's over in the corner of the ward." She pointed right at the man Matthew thought was his friend.

Matthew rocked on his heels uneasily. Sam's eyes too were covered in dressings. "What…erm…what happened to him?"

"Gassed at Estaires in April. Mustard gas. Horrible stuff. We're seeing more and more exposed to it." Mrs. Chesney sorrowfully shook her head. "There's not much we can do for some but at least Captain Lewis will live."

"But blinded for life?" Matthew bit the side of his cheek. The horrific irony of that made him suddenly miserable. He had been so jealous of Sam volunteering and going off to war in 1915. How fatuously stupid that all seemed in hindsight.

"Yes he is. And some lung damage. His family will take him home as soon as he's mobile. They have a country estate and a private nurse. They've not bothered to visit, but a car will pick him up in the morning to drive him home." Mrs. Chesney gave Matthew a tight smile and a caustic response, "Good for some."

Matthew understood Matron's disdain. The difference in care, was unfortunately for most, tied to social and economic rank. The best care, including private medical attendants that catered to their every need, was the exclusive territory of those of aristocratic or gentry class. They were the only ones who could afford it. Everyone else was left to make do with whatever care they could find. Short staffed or undertrained doctors and nurses, facilities that did not have enough supplies, a government already in denial about how much long term care all these soldiers would need, and a public afraid of them as they represented the detritus of a war they longed to forget.

It was something he was well aware of, especially now that he was married into just such a family. He intended to do his best to make sure all the 'brave boys from the front' as the propaganda posters called them were given every opportunity to succeed despite the roadblocks thrown in their way.

Would Sam want to talk to him? Matthew rubbed his chin in thought. They had not kept in touch after Lewis volunteered as their lives took such different paths but they had been good friends at Cambridge. Matthew had spent a few weeks each summer with Lewis's family at their estate in Buckinghamshire. He remembered Sam's mother meant to be kind but came across heavy-handed and cloying instead.

Matthew approached the cot. "Sam?"

The other man turned in surprise, no one used his first name anymore. "Who's that?" But Matthew could tell Sam had an inkling of recognition.

"It's…It's Matthew Crawley."

"Matthew? Are you working here?"

"I did. For a short time in 1916. You inspired me to get involved in war work. They're good people. Take good care of you."

"I suppose. My parents think otherwise. I've been told a car will take me home within days." He turned back towards the wall. "What does it matter, really, where I rot?"

Matthew sighed, unable to say anything. He knew from experience this was the initial stage of going blind. The mental damage from the war exacerbating the fear, the self-loathing.

He was temporarily distracted by an approaching nurse. "Captain Crawley? The General says he's finished with the ward and wants to see the fencing yard."

"Captain?" Sam interrupted. "What's going on Matthew?" Sam's voice strained. "They've allowed you to serve even though you're blind?"

Matthew knew no other recourse but the bald truth. "I regained my sight in 1916 and joined the North Ridings in January 1917."

Sam did not reply at first and then only a terse, "some chaps have all the luck."

Matthew stepped away, grimacing at the rebuke. "I have to go." He left quickly to rejoin the tour, feeling unsettled. Sam did not want him around that was clear, but he hoped to try again before the afternoon was over.

Later that night, after the tour and he retired back to the barracks, he wrote his thoughts to Mary.

 _Dearest Mary,  
I received your last letter and am intrigued by what you have to tell me upon my return home. It will still be several weeks before I'm back in Yorkshire, unfortunately, as we are prepping for a series of meetings at the War Office…_

Matthew broke off writing. Anything more would violate the Official Secrets Act. The Prime Minister was in attendance at these meetings. Lloyd George, for all his moral failings, was a man intent on ending this endless war and Matthew hoped these strategy sessions between the BEF and AEF C-in-C General Pershing would make headway in that direction. When they were over the generals planned to travel to France to meet Généralissime Ferdinand Foch, Commander in Chief of all Allied Forces. Matthew would join them rather than return to regimental headquarters. He had felt stifled by the restrictions imposed by the request to keep him at home and was glad his duties took him to Paris along with the other ADC's. Neither Robert, nor the king himself, could object.

He continued writing

 _We toured St. Dunstan's today and unexpectedly I had an encounter with a friend from Cambridge. I'm not sure I ever told you about Sam Lewis who was also studying English literature and pursuing a Masters degree. He left in early 1916 to join up and we had not seen each other since. He's at the hostel now, suffering from gas blindness and unlikely to recover his eyesight. I don't have to tell you how greatly this saddens me. He's very down and my presence seemed to agitate him as I told him of my own recovery. We spoke a couple of times very briefly before I had to go. We did not part on good terms, but I understood and did not press the matter. It just spurs me, though, to pursue the business venture I spoke to you about with even more vigour. On that very matter I've received the confirmation letter from Reggie's solicitor that indeed I am the beneficiary of the will. I spent about an hour with Ian Fraser at St. Dunstan's and he's very enthusiastic about a partnership. Of course, all of this must be put off until the war is over._

Matthew stopped again, massaging his throbbing forehead with his fingers. The headaches had been getting more frequent. He tried not to think about what it meant.

 _I hope all is well at Downton with the family. My mother writes from Malta that she will be returning to England in the summer which will ease my mind considerably._

 _I will write again as soon as I can. I think of our time together constantly. Your warmth, your touch, your kisses, and love sustain me as nothing else._

 _My eternal love always,  
Matthew_

XX

The August heat stifled any urge to get out of bed. Mary lay under a light cover, her bump just becoming more visible with each passing day. At least to her it was. It was mostly her imagination that her slim figure was filling out. Her body was no longer her own. The thought of sharing it was a child was both thrilling and paralyzing.

Matthew was late getting back from wherever he was with the regiment, making her feel even more alone.

Would she be a good mother as Matthew predicted? Her own mother, as loving as she was, had been largely a distant figure in her childhood. Nannies and governesses making up most of her daily routine. Mama and Papa would see them in the morning and in the evening before bedtime. Mary didn't remember feeling at all deprived of parental attention, but when Matthew spoke about his mother and the long talks and travels they took either as a family before his father died or her unwavering support and love after his blindness set in, she wondered if he would expect to be more attentive to their child's wants and desires.

She put away those reflections when Anna entered the room, opening the drapery and bringing a breakfast tray. Only recently had the morning sickness subsided, so Mary adjusted the tray on her lap and tried some toast and jam.

"How is the cottage coming along?"

"We've finished painting and hope to move in within the week." Anna replied as she continued her work.

"I'm glad. Did the furnishings fit?" Mary inquired. They had spent half a day last week going through some of the unused rooms to find chairs and a dining table for the cottage. Mary insisted Anna take them all.

"Yes. The two lads came yesterday in the cart."

"Excellent. I'm in need of good news."

Anna left and Mary took her time eating before ringing to help her get dressed. Her clothes were tight she thought, needing to be let out again and knew it was only a matter of time before she had to switch to maternity dresses and skirts.

There was so much on today she couldn't delay much longer. In addition to her regular accounting duties, she had a tour to conduct of some visiting dignitaries who wanted to call on officers serving in their regiments. A Colonel … Pantomime or something and various followers in tow. She shouldn't be so dismissive of the younger officers trailing in the colonel's wake as Matthew also functioned in that capacity. She knew, however, he wouldn't be as obsequious and vacuous as these callow young men.

A sound below caught her ear. A friendly, mellifluous voice. The servants always moved silently through the house at all times, but the men sometimes screamed in terror or on better days clowned around and their laughter could be heard upstairs. This was more conversational.

"It's all right Carson, I'll make my own way…"

She recognized the voice… Mary shot up straight in the bed. That was Matthew's voice! She lifted the tray off her lap and raised the covers so she could slip out of bed. She was just putting on a silk robe when there was a light tap at the door and it opened.

Matthew's blue eyes peeked through the slit, saw Mary was awake, and opened it the rest of the way. "Darling!"

"Matthew why didn't you telephone us about your arrival? Your last letter said at least a week before you could get away."

"I know but I had an opportunity for a week end leave and I took it." Matthew strolled towards her side of the bed, his eyes twinkling. "Are you unhappy about my early arrival? I could go back…" He tried to sound hurt.

Mary grabbled his jacket as he approached and gave him a long kiss. "Not on your life," she groaned deliciously as their lips reluctantly parted.

Matthew smiled and his hands slipped around her waist, the seductive feel of the fabric making him aroused. He was about to kiss her again when to his utter surprise she pulled away from him.

"What is it?"

Mary instinctively pulled the tie of the robe around her waist.

Matthew eyebrows furrowed in deep concern. "Are you well?" He had heard about rumors of a so called Spanish influenza racing through the hospitals in France.

Mary realized her actions were abrupt and worried her husband. "I'm fine darling." She reached out to him and they embraced once again. "I have a surprise for you."

She felt for his hands and placed them on her stomach. It was rather silly to think he'd understand as she was hardly showing but…

Matthew's eyes flew open. There really was only one reason why his wife would do that. "Are you…" He swallowed hard. He blinked rapidly, trying to digest what she was about to tell him. His life, already so full of joy, was about to become even more so.

Mary nodded, her lip half open, her teeth biting it in anticipation of his response. "I'm due in late January."

"Oh my love…" Matthew's fingers rubbed her still slim belly. He bent down, loosening her robe and lifting her gown. He delicately kissed her warm flesh where his child lay within.

He could hardly believe such happiness was possible. He had just come from Paris, the rubbled waste of war around him on the train to and from Boulogne. Death in all its manifestations robbing the lives of the innocent.

A blinding terror suddenly gripped him making him breathless as he clung to Mary's waistline. A fierce need to protect his family invaded his mind. Would he be up to it?

"Matthew?" Mary lowered herself to the floor to take her shaking husband's body into her arms. His head came to rest in the snug spot beneath her neckline.

"Sorry darling." He said, trying to recover his power of speech. "It's such lovely news."

Mary's beautiful face was etched with concern. But she said nothing, just held him until the shuddering stopped.

When it did so, he raised himself up and lifted Mary onto the bed. Matthew laid down beside her. "I wish I could stay longer," his fingers tracing the outline of her stomach. He cuddled closer, feeling her warmth, never wanting to leave. Never wanting to be parted from his family again.

Mary gave up on any idea of following her scheduled routine. The hospital could see to itself for a day or two. Matthew needed her. And she needed to feel his strong arms around her, protective and comforting herself and the life within her.

XX

😊 _Love all your views and opinions! Thank you!_


	18. Chapter 18

**Late August 1918 Downton Abbey**

XX

After Mary's big news of the morning he arrived back at Downton, Matthew's day had been spent catching up with his wife and trying to find out when his mother might be arriving back from her tour of Red Cross hospitals in the Mediterranean. He had spent several frustrated hours being connected or cut off from multiple offices within the Joint War Organisation. Finally someone said they'd try to get a telegram through to Mrs. Crawley who was currently on the island of Malta.

"Thank you," Matthew said trying to be diplomatic. He well understood the fact that he could try to get through to her at all was a miracle of modern technology.

Before he knew it, he had to get dressed for dinner. Matthew walked into the room adjacent to the new suite Mary had chosen for them as a married couple. He was still getting used to the idea of even having a separate chamber just to organise and change his clothes. At least he had adjusted to having a private manservant attend to his grooming. The army insisted upon providing all officers with a soldier servant even though he hardly believed he needed one.

This valet had hung his evening suit jacket on the hanger portion of the upright cherrywood clothes stand and was brushing it in quick purposeful downward strokes when Matthew opened the door.

"Hello." Matthew said, starting to unbutton his service uniform tunic.

The man approached. "Lang, sir. Let me help with that."

Matthew noticed the man's face held beads of sweat along his brow. Surely just brushing down a suit wouldn't do that? The room was a tad stifling though, so maybe that was a factor.

But then his hands shook as he took over the task of undoing the buttons.

Suddenly Matthew knew. "Didn't you used to be a footman? I remember you from my first dinner here at Downton." There had been a slight incident with some soup if he recalled. At first he thought the footman was being officious, but then he realized it might be something else entirely.

"Yes." Lang's teeth gritted, embarrassed he had been found out so soon but tried to get on with the task without looking at the officer and son in law of Lord Grantham. He had been first assigned as a footman at Downton until his clumsiness in the dining room had forced his lordship to try and find him work elsewhere.

Just to be sure of his conjecture, Matthew asked. "You've been in the trenches?"

"I was invalided out. I'm no soldier now."

"That's perfectly honourable you know. I'm classed C-3 myself."

"But at least you're still serving if you don't mind my saying so." Lang looked up sharply at the young man but shut up before he said anything else out of turn.

"Not at all. Always feel free to speak your mind. I'm serving yes. But I was never in the thick of it like you. We owe you everything."

He scoffed. "Tell that to the people who look at me and wonder why I'm not in uniform anymore."

Matthew scowled. "You just refer them to me, eh? I'll give them a piece of my mind. I was given the white feather. I know where you stand. And I know what you've done in service to this country."

Lang felt a sudden easing of his anxiety. Maybe he could stick it out with this job after all.

XX

Mary took Matthew's hand under the dinner table. She had asked her mama that despite protocol she be seated next to her husband that evening. Cora understood.

"I'm going to announce it," she whispered.

"And I thought I was the last to know," Matthew said teasingly.

"Only Mama." She positively glowed with excitement. "I wanted to see all their faces at once."

When there was a lull in the conversation and the footmen had retreated to the corners of the room, Mary said, "Matthew and I have some news."

Granny, seated opposite, looked up from the delicious soup. There were only a few reasons why her granddaughter would call for such complete attention from the family. "What is it my dear? Don't keep us in suspense."

Matthew gave his wife an encouraging nod and Mary said, "We're expecting a baby Granny. So be prepared to become a great grandmama very soon."

Rumbles of pleasure echoed around the table.

"That is indeed the most glorious news." Violet was pleased, and not just for being right. "In these dark days it's most reassuring to think of new life being born into this world."

Looking at Matthew's face glow with happiness as he accepted the congratulations around the table from family members, Mary thought she also caught a glimpse of distress behind those bright blue eyes. It was quickly replaced by a cheery smile and a squeeze of his hand so she said nothing.

She had done her duty to her father and her family. Matthew had once asked her why she didn't ever kick the traces out from the weight of her birthright. To just do something unexpected? And she had admitted it felt confined and that she was angry at how her position, her sex, her sense of responsibility kept her from living the life she wanted. She chafed, she complained. But in the end she was what she was. And she knew her role was to provide an heir to keep the Grantham legacy alive. She had not given in to her father's demand to marry the most eligible man in her line of sight. She had married for love. A deep, abiding love that thrilled and scared her. Matthew had become the other half of her very self.

She'd never be alone. She would always have someone on her side. She was her own woman for sure, she'd stand her ground and argue for her point until she was blue in the face. But in the end they'd face life's challenges together. The reassurance of his love made her strong. And if the worst came, she'd be by his side, seeing him through the darkness. To this, at this moment of supreme happiness, she made an everlasting vow.

XX

"This is the most remarkable, the most precious news…." Robert wiped away a tear at the corner of his eye. "A child…" Potentially an heir, he said to himself. So long he had fretted about not providing a male child to carry on the line.

Could this be the answers to his prayers? Provided by the very man he had scorned and diminished due to a physical incapacity beyond his control?

He looked at Matthew. They were drinking port after the ladies had retired to the drawing room. Matthew ever had his own ideas that clashed with his own. About the estate, about his war service. He wanted to be his own man. Robert needed to start respecting that.

"I never thought I could be any happier than I was when Mary accepted my hand in marriage but now I feel as if I've swallowed a box of fireworks." Matthew said, taking a puff of the cigar and placing it onto the provided ash tray. He knew Robert liked the tradition of cigars and port after dinner but other than an occasional cigarette in the trenches, he wasn't much for smoking.

"Aren't you glad you are safe now?" Robert couldn't help but ask. "I knew going to the king for deferred orders was the right path."

Matthew's lip curled slightly in distaste. Robert positively reeked of the certainty of his class that everything he did was always for the good, even when every decision was also most assuredly made for their own self interests. But he bit back any snide retort he might have made. This was an evening for celebration. Not recriminations.

But he had to speak his mind. "It is hard not to have been allowed to continue my duties in France," he admitted as much. "Seeing the men here and at the hospital. When I was at the front I heard some of the men pray to be spared, of course. But if that was not to be, they pray for a bullet that kills them cleanly. For too many of them that prayer has not been answered."

He sat up straighter in the chair as he became more animated in tone and gesture. "This is why I think it's so important to use the money to help them." He put out his cigar with force into the ashtray. "To …to…truly make this a land fit for heroes."

Robert felt the slight chastisement but appreciated Matthew's candor. "I've been talking with Jarvis about possible locations on the estate for your factory and hostel for the employees. Perhaps on your next leave we can take a tour."

"I'd like that very much." Matthew said. "Thank you for understanding."

Robert nodded and the two men sat in congenial silence.

"Perhaps once this war is over we can also consider your role here at Downton. Get you more involved in the running of the estate. I've been informed by Mary that you intend to take the solicitor's exam. That could be very helpful with all these new estate taxes and insurance and the rest that will come down around our heads sooner rather than later."

Matthew heard the anxiety in his father in law's voice. "Is it that bad?"

Robert waved a hand around in the air, "I don't know if I have any purpose anymore. I only know I must protect those who have served my family and the estate upon which we all live for generations to come. With your help I think Downton may just have a future."

He directed his gaze straight at Matthew.

All cards on the table.

Matthew understood Robert's intentions. He did what he had to do for reasons Matthew may not agree with, but he would respect. "I'll do my best to help."

XX

"So the baby's due in the new year?" Edith asked as she and Mary slowly walked upstairs together. "Maybe the war will be over by then and we can do nothing but celebrate with parades and parties."

"We can only hope. Have you set a date?" Mary's hand idly rubbed her stomach. She was still adjusting to notion of a baby growing inside her body. What would she look like in a few months? Would she even want to be seen in public?

"Anthony is still being obstinate. He's taken on some duties in London with the War Office and so it looks like the wedding's delayed until after the war." Edith shrugged. "I can't reach him. He's convinced he's just going to be a burden. At least he's not broken things off completely."

Mary took her arm and squeezed it for support. "How about your writing? Any new articles?"

"I've decided on another project. I'm interviewing some of the men who are in their final stages of convalescence about their experiences here as well as the doctors and nurses to create a kind of history of Downton during the war. One of the soldiers, a Captain Westmore is an amateur photographer. He's promised to return with his camera equipment to document the house and the hospital. Maybe now with Matthew's project that can be added as well."

Mary was impressed. "That sounds very important."

"It is." Edith said deftly. "I don't just have schemes designed to destroy your life."

Her sister chuckled. "Touché."

They hugged and parted ways, Mary moving towards the bedroom she now shared with Matthew. He had already gone up earlier in the evening claiming to be tired from the train journey. She wasn't sure she believed him but wouldn't press the matter. Matthew would tell her in his own time what was happening.

She heard him in his dressing room conversing with the man temporarily assigned as his valet.

Anna arrived to help her start undressing. "How is Lang handling the change?"

"He's very fidgety m'lady. But I think that's just his manner."

Mary's head turned but left Matthew alone. There was laughter from the next room so she didn't interfere.

Anna quickly finished unpinning Mary's hair and helping her into a nightgown. Upon leaving the room Mary pulled back the covers and got under the sheets.

Were her ankles swelling? She asked herself in consternation as she gazed down at her feet before covering them up with the light coverlets.

Matthew emerged from the dressing room, closing the door and walking over to the bed. "Hello darling."

He stopped short and frowned.

"What?"

"Oh nothing." Matthew laid down beside her. "I wanted to unpin your hair. I guess the honeymoon is truly over." He affected an air of despondency.

Mary clucked and enunciated with false pity and a heavy sigh, "we all must get on with things." She didn't meet his eyes, continuing only to fuss with the coverlet.

But her eyes gave her away, dancing and mischievous.

Matthew laughed and snuggled in closer, rubbing her stomach lightly and placing quick kisses on where he presumed baby lay inside.

Mary rumpled his hair with her fingers. Oh how she loved doing that. They settled down into the covers.

"You're getting on well with Lang. He's not really fit in here so I was worried about making him your temporary valet."

"He's got neurasthenia."

Mary didn't understand the term. "Neuro…"

"Shell shock more commonly," Matthew added. "It was unfortunately ordinary at St. Dunstan's to see men like Lang. Constant shakes, nightmares, some even thought themselves blind when it was all in their head." His grip hardened and became sweaty in her hand as he spoke, "It was quite unnerving when I was there in 1916. I could hear the screams, the smells…" He stopped, not wanting to disconcert Mary.

"Go on," Mary encouraged. "I want to know."

"There were some doctors even there who wanted the men removed for 'lead swinging' as they called it. Malingering cowards who should be shot or taken directly back to the front and not molly coddled like some baby." He spat out the words, anger and bile filled his mouth. "Men like Lang are the back bone of the British army. They deserve better."

Mary's hand cupped his cheek as a few tears ran down. "You will do such good work."

Matthew tried to smile, "It's such a small thing really. The problem is too much. You …we … We all have no idea what's coming after this war."

"We can only worry about what we can do." Mary said.

Matthew gave her a curt nod in response.

"I know it sounds like some kind of aristocratic snobbery or noblesse oblige but as you say it's overwhelming. I see it here as well. Sybil writes about it from the casualty station in France. The only way I've managed to get through it is to say to myself this is what I can do right now. Right here."

"It's not nearly enough," Matthew shook his head.

"… it's something. You're doing what you think is right with the inheritance bestowed upon you. I didn't understand how much this all means to you. I do now."

"But you still think there are better investment opportunities. You should be the lawyer not me…" Matthew leaned down and gently kissed her bare shoulder.

Mary arched an eyebrow. "I'll leave the open rebellion to Sybil. As all smart women of my class have done in history I will work from behind the scenes to influence events. It's much more dignified."

Matthew laughed, sliding down on the bed and wrapping his arms around his wife.

"It's lovely to have you home Matthew." Mary said with total sincerity. "I've missed you so terribly much."

Spooning with their bodies close to the other's skin, at least temporarily they released the tensions of the day. The night air was still, no breeze reaching them through the open window. With an urgency that took each by surprise they made love. Mary gripping Matthew's body tight as he took her, never wanting to let go, savoring his hot breathy kisses along her neckline. They rocketed towards an explosive climax, the bed shaking beneath them. Neither cared if anyone heard their moans of sweet surrender.

They were alone in this world they made together.

XX

Carson took the telephone call while Matthew was out on a walk with Mary. When they returned to the house to meet the rest of the family for tea he informed the heir that his mother was in London and would be back in Downton Village by the late afternoon train.

"Thank you." Matthew nodded and continued inside the small library.

"How did she know you were here?" Mary sat down beside her husband on the red settee.

"I presume she first tried the barracks and they told her I was on leave." Matthew smiled. "I will go meet her."

"Bring her here if she's up to it after such a long journey." Cora said.

"It will be a great relief to see her again. She's not been able to communicate much in her Mediterranean inspections. God willing it will be the last she'll have to take."

"Amen." Edith added. "This war has taken enough from all of us."

"I'm afraid it might take even more before it's over. This flu I've heard tell about is vicious. Have you seen signs of it here?" Matthew asked. "I know in London many hospitals are in a state of panic as it's sweeping through the wards."

"Major Clarkson has made us aware of the risks," Mary said with a sigh. "But so far other than isolation wards there's no other option to prevent further contamination."

Matthew's face drained of colour but he said nothing. Mary noticed but kept her worry to herself for the moment.

Her husband changed the subject. "Robert, Mary and I walked to those cottages Jarvis pointed out as possible site for the hostel. Other than they're quite derelict and in need of attention I think they'll serve the purpose most excellently."

"Good. Good," Robert was pleased. He sat in the chair nearest the fireplace, petting Isis as the dog's tail happily thumped the carpet.

"Now I just need to finalize all the papers with my solicitor and set up a banking account for the foundation." Matthew said, adding "I've not really had the chance to get back to London with regimental duties taking me elsewhere."

Once again husband and wife exchanged tight looks but said nothing.

"Now now," Mary tutted staving off any worry with humor, "as Granny says it's vulgar to talk money at tea."

Matthew knew his wife only spoke in jest and chuckled.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" Edith asked. "I could write something up about it for _The Sketch_."

"I… I hadn't really given it consideration," Matthew admitted. "But yes it will need an official name when I make the legal documentation."

"Something to honour the Swire memory perhaps?" Mary suggested, taking her husband's hand.

Matthew's lip quivered, and despite a tightening at the back of his throat he managed to say, "I think that's a marvelous idea."

Mary's hand squeezed his own harder as their gaze met yet again. This time shining with love.

The gong went off. Carson's warning, that even in the midst of war, Downton's time schedule remained intact. Dinner would be in one hour.

Matthew gazed at his wristwatch. Cora noticed and said, "I'll see if Carson can put back dinner one hour. He won't like it but we do want you to be able to fetch your mother and join us if she feels able."

He nodded, "I'll start out now and wait for her at the station."

"I'll join you," Mary said.

"No." Matthew turned to her in concern. "You rest. I don't know how long I'll have to wait."

"Don't fuss." Mary was suddenly irritable, letting go of his hand and standing up. "I may be pregnant but it's not 1850. I can be seen outside the home."

Matthew tightly pursed his lips, his eyes shifted downward.

"Very well," Mary conceded curtly. "I have some paperwork to catch up anyway." And with that she got up and left the room without another word.

Her husband's jaw fell open. He scratched in head in confusion.

Edith looked over at him with a wry sort of pity, "You married a contrarian Matthew. Best get used to it." She patted his shoulder and also took her leave.

XX

"Have I noticed some tensions between yourself and Mary?"

Matthew sighed. His mother, ever so perceptive, got straight to the point. He was walking back with her to Crawley House in the light of evening midsummer. Dinner had been uneventful. The rest of the family retiring early for the evening.

"Nothing that can't be overcome. We're still trying to get used to one another's ways."

Isobel decided that was a good enough answer and they walked along more pleasantly.

Matthew ventured, "you are pleased about our news aren't you?"

"Delighted," Isobel said. "A child is always a joy."

"And no more overseas travels I hope?" Matthew did not want to show just how worried he had been over the past weeks with his mother in the U-boat filled waters of the Mediterranean.

"As long as you can do the same." Isobel gave her son a side eye.

He faltered, "How…How did you know?"

"I have friends in Paris who saw you walking around the Quai d'Orsay."

Matthew should have known. "I was with General Sir Herbert Strutt. My duties as his ADC took me there."

"Even though Robert requested you to home duties alone?"

"He doesn't own me. I was quite safe." Matthew grumbled.

"Does Mary know? Given her situation I'm sure she'd be beside herself with worry."

Matthew paused, thinking that may be the explanation for Mary's earlier fit of anger. "I don't know. It won't happen again. The push at Amiens is showing signs of success. I can't say more but there is the best hope in a long time for a final end to the war."

He knew he wasn't telling his mother anything she didn't already know. She had contacts all over command headquarters it seemed.

They arrived at the front door of Crawley House. Molesley opened the door.

"I'll leave you for the night and come back tomorrow morning before I leave for York." Matthew leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"It's so good to see you again. I look forward to the day we won't be parted again."

Matthew smiled. "And by then there will be the pitter patter of baby feet."

"I can't wait." Isobel returned his smile. He was so very happy. It was all she wanted. "See you tomorrow."

Matthew waved and began the stroll back to Downton. He liked the walk. The quiet. The peace. Paris had unnerved him more than he expected. The silencing of the guns would be a most welcome way to introduce a new life to this world.

Upon entering Downton he took the steps upstairs two at a time and after entering his dressing room quickly helped Lang take off his evening suit and then dismissed him for the evening. "I can manage from here. Get some rest. I'll be off in the morning."

"Yes sir. I have your bags already packed."

"Thank you."

Matthew put on his pyjamas and robe and opened the door to the bedroom.

Mary was awake, in bed and reading a book.

"Darling…" He crawled over the covers to give her a deep kiss.

"Matthew…" Mary said tentatively, breaking off the kiss. "I'm sorry for being short with you this afternoon. I'm used to doing what I like. This pregnancy has me at it's mercy. I go from utter joy one moment to abject fear in another." She threw up her hands and started to laugh. "I lash out for reasons even I can't justify…"

Matthew lay back on the bed beside her, also letting out a relieved chuckle. He did not want to continue this tension that had been building between them.

"I'm sorry too," he said. "I didn't mean to sound like I was ordering you to stay at the house. I was only trying to watch out for you."

Mary slowly ran her finger along his cheekbone. "I'm not used to that either. Having someone to watch over me. I will sometimes snarl and bite but it is also very sweet."

The sensation of her touch made him tingle. They kissed again.

He rested his head on her shoulder. "I do have a confession. I think you realized from what I wasn't saying in my letters that I was not in York these past few weeks."

"Yes," Mary confirmed. "But I know you can't tell me everything."

"No I can't. That's true. I do want you to know that it's all over. I won't be going any further than London for the foreseeable future."

"That is reassuring." Mary closed her eyes and lay back against the headboard. "I have enough on my plate to worry about."

"About that…" Matthew paused, knowing this would not go down well with his wife. "I also have some concerns…"

"What?" She raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I don't know how much everyone up here realizes just how virulent this flu is. I've heard reports from London hospitals of wards filling up with patients of all ages. Doctors are scrambling to put the infected under quarantine and others out of harm's way."

"As I said earlier Major Clarkson has given some instructions like that. I'm not sure what that has to do with me."

"You are amongst the sick all the time." Matthew tried not to sound panicky. "You might want to take more precautions especially now."

Mary's hand unconsciously moved towards her stomach. "Such as?"

Matthew swallowed then just made his suggestion. "Perhaps you should consider not working so much? And some time away from Downton? Maybe move into Crawley House until the baby's born."

Mary gave him a blank stare. "You're not serious."

He rolled his eyes. "Why not? It's safer…"

"Crawley House?" All Mary could remember was how cramped it seemed when they were on their honeymoon. Snug for the occasion, but not for a long stay.

"Won't Isobel object?"

"She won't always be there. You'll have some time alone."

"You want me to move in with your mother?"

He responded tetchily, "I'm here at Downton aren't I? I agreed to live with your parents."

Mary summarily dismissed that argument. "Hardly the same. We've got over 100 rooms."

"Many of which are occupied by potentially flu infected patients at the moment," Matthew voice rose hoping to drive his concern home.

"I know I need to cut back on my workload in the coming months. Mama has agreed to take over the accounting and Edith will help but I don't want to leave Downton."

"Will you at least talk it over again with Clarkson? See what he thinks?"

She searched his face, one etched in concern.

"Is it that bad?"

Matthew grimaced and nodded his head. "And getting worse."

Mary's hand on her stomach tightened. She became suddenly fiercely protective of this baby who was so helplessly at her mercy. "I will talk with him. Maybe a few weeks at the Dower House with Granny? She's not getting any younger but won't admit to needing help. It's also large enough so that we won't be at each other's throat within a day or two."

Matthew relaxed as Mary would at least consider his objections to her continual stay at Downton. No where was safe with this epidemic but taking some precautions would at least assuage his worst fears.

They embraced, Mary moved onto her side as it was now a more comfortable position. Matthew's arm came around and rested on her abdomen.

Oh how he hated leaving again in the morning.

XX

 _Again and as always thank you for reading this story. Reviews and comments are lovely._


	19. Chapter 19

**Late October 1918**

XX

"Granny?"

Her grandmother dozed in her chair, her mouth slightly ajar most unbecomingly. Mary wouldn't tell her when she awakened. Instead she made her way towards the window seat and sat down, gazing down into the garden. The first autumn cold snap had killed most of the summer blooms and the leaves were beginning to fall.

Mary exhaled, feeling guilty about feeling bored. There was so much to do at Downton. The inspectors were back and she fretted about her mother being able to please them. The day nursery needed new wallpaper and furnishings. But upon taking Major Clarkson's advice to follow Matthew's idea about staying somewhere safer from the spread of this flu she now found herself living with the dowager countess for an indefinite amount of time.

She felt the baby kick which only made her melancholier. It was exhilarating of course, but it also caused her to miss Matthew with an ache that seemed never ending. He had been unable to get leave for weeks now and his letters were not as frequent as they once were. He had said he wouldn't be traveling overseas anymore but whatever duties took him away from her she resented with a petty-mindedness that belied her true understanding of the world's horrors.

She could not change those things. Bring back the dead. Make sure the world did not descend any more into the cauldron of war and hate. But she wanted her husband back. And she wanted to be back home with him. With her family. With their child to be born in three months.

Simply to live. And appreciate every little thing that she loved. She wanted to do that even though she knew her nature would also be inclined to throw off the past four years of retrenchment and rationing and buy ten new dresses from Paris and try out every new nightclub in London.

The world was changing. It had thrown off it's innocence and there was no going back.

She wanted to be a part of that. The excitement. To live in the forgetfulness.

"Mary?"

At last her grandmother stirred. "Is it tea time?"

"Not quite yet. But I can ring for it early. I think we both need some sustenance." Mary moved to pull the bell.

"Lovely." She said, adjusting the cushion behind her. "How are you holding up my dear? I know I'm not the best of company."

"I'm just restless with everything Granny. It's not you."

"Cora was on the phone earlier when you went out for a walk. It's a good thing you left when you did. She says Clarkson has diagnosed several cases of this wretched Spanish flu. Including some members of staff."

"Who?" Mary almost did not want to be told.

"Mr. Bates for one. Carson also."

Mary's face paled. "Does Anna know?"

"I thought it best if the news came from you."

Bates had insisted his wife accompany Mary to the Dower House to keep her safe as well.

"I'll do it now." She stood up.

"Let her have her tea downstairs first," Granny advised. "Bad news always goes down better on a full stomach."

Mary moved to take a seat next to her grandmother.

"What about the inspectors?"

Granny Violet smiled. "She said you would ask. Everything went exactly as you said it would."

Mary nodded, pleased.

"Such a tragedy. This new plague. As if we've not suffered enough."

"Matthew says it's now being called 'the war to end all wars' based on a book published in 1914 by H.G. Wells. That a new era of peace and freedom will result."

"Sometimes it feels like we live inside an H.G. Wells novel. Does he believe it?"

Mary shrugged. "No I don't think he does. He also quoted Prime Minister Lloyd George saying 'this war, like the next one, is a war to end war.' The men think it's a delusion but one they're told to tell to the civilian population."

Violet sighed. "Yes one can believe nothing in the newspapers. I've lived long enough to know that hate and prejudice outlast any conflict."

"We can hope I suppose."

"Hope is a tease, designed to prevent us accepting reality." Violet's voice shook. "I'm too old for this. Too old to change. Everyone, everything I've known is gone."

Mary had never heard her granny sound so beaten. She tried some humour, "Isn't it too middle class to sound defeatist?"

Violet had to smile at that old bon mot of hers. "Of course my dear. We shall rally yet. Your child shall be the guide to our future. May he or she live always in a time of peace."

Mary rubbed her belly. "Amen." She often found herself praying to a God she wasn't sure she believed in. Hypocritical it may be, it gave her a measure of comfort.

XX

 **Early November 1918**

Matthew was glad the first-class car was empty but for him.

The train chugged down the track towards home. The back and forth jockeying motion was gentle. Mary would say it was like an easy gallop across the headlands. But given the choice she'd always choose her fearless beast over a claustrophobic metallic contraption any day. Unless it was the elegant _Compagnie Internationale_ 's Orient Express Mary would add with a sly wink.

Mentally Matthew had added it to the list.

They were relaxing in bed at Crawley House at the time, daydreaming of all the romantic spots where they could continue the honeymoon he had to so tragically cut short.

He had felt on top of the world. A brilliant, shining day it had been. A day to do nothing more than make love and create memories for the future.

But this day, a dismal and ugly one, Matthew felt sick.

His life crashing down around him. That future, so lovingly planned, mocking him for being a fool.

A fool to think it could ever be.

To do what he wanted. Live as he wanted. Love Mary as she deserved to be loved.

Instead he'd return to the darkness. A life at best half lived. Limited and requiring the charity of others.

He slammed his fist on the seat rest.

The cruel reality setting in.

The medical board had declared him unfit for military service finally and completely this time. No getting around it. He was no longer able to fulfill his responsibilities due to complications related to severe eye strain and peripheral vision loss. General Strutt reluctantly terminated his duties as ADC and put him on extended leave. He put out his hand when Matthew departed the office after his dismissal. "Good luck lad. Take care of yourself. You've been an asset to the regiment."

Matthew hated having to leave like this. He had not seen the war through to the end. But his head throbbing and feeling like he wanted to chop it off, he sadly took the General's hand, curtly nodded, and left.

The headaches had started as a nuisance and then just got increasingly worse. He had blamed it on tension from the work load. The trip to Paris. The strain of having to read so many daily reports in order to write up weekly summary of findings as part of his duties.

On a day pass he had gone to London to see his ophthalmologist. Dr. Osbourne. He had put him through a rigorous series of tests. The ophthalmoscope revealed the optic nerve head was discoloured, a sign the adenoma was again threatening to press against the back of his eyes.

"It's realigned and unfortunately is no longer silent." Dr. Osbourne knew this was not the news Matthew wanted to hear. It had been a freak of the unknown pathology of the tumour that it had gone from causing his blindness to having no effect on Matthew's physiology. And now back again.

He saw the young man slump in the chair behind the ophthalmoscope, rubbing his brow vigorously.

"Dr. Cushing at Yale in America has made great strides in brain surgery…" Osbourne started to say, but at Matthew's hopeful gaze, decided he better be more realistic. "As had Sir William Macewen and Sir Victor Horsley here in Britain. But it's largely in tumours in the brain lining or subdural or spinal hematomas. There's also been progress in radiation therapy, but it's all been largely been a hit and miss method with many horrifying side effects and discouraging results and therefore I don't recommend it. We're still a ways away from that kind of successful procedure especially given the location of your adenoma and the potential for sepsis, stroke, or even death."

He said the words with the brutality needed to get through to him. He wanted Matthew to know the true nature of his situation.

"It is best, right now, to accept the situation for what it is. And be glad…"

He heard his patient grunt bitterly.

Dr. Osbourne continued, "… glad that your health is intact. I've treated many soldiers with gas blindness that are in a far worse situation than you."

Matthew glared in the direction of the ophthalmologist. He knew the truth the doctor spoke. He had witnessed it. He didn't need a lecture. "Thank you doctor but I feel I could do more good for those men if I was able to keep my eyesight rather than be one amongst them once more." God he felt like a thousand stinging needles stabbed relentlessly inside his skull.

Osbourne knew Matthew's belligerence came out of his pain.

"I will prescribe laudanum for your headaches. It's only to be used under my strict instructions mind you."

Matthew was relieved. The agony was becoming unbearable.

"The side effects, however, are strong. It's a soporific and as such you cannot drive or continue you regular duties under its control. I will have to inform the Medical Board."

He sighed and slumped once again in the examination chair. "I understand." He looked up and scrunched his eyes, the doctor appearing fuzzy around the edges of his cornea. "How much longer do I have? My wife… " he turned away, unable to continue. After a few moments he pulled himself together again. "My wife is pregnant. We're expecting our first child. I want… I want…." The tears began to stream down his cheeks.

"I can't answer that Matthew," Dr. Osbourne said sympathetically. "It could stabilize again or…"

Matthew waved off the doctor's prognosis. He knew the rest. He put his head in his hands, despairing.

His voice muffled, Matthew choked out the last question he had. "Do you know if this is carried from generation to generation?"

"Do you know of other relations in the family with same condition?"

Matthew finally looked up. He and his mother had discussed that in years past. "No. My mother recalls no one on her side having anything like it. We never had the chance to question my father before he died but Mother asked a few cousins and they couldn't recall."

"Other than family history we really don't have any tests yet for brain tumours."

Asking such questions only made his headache worse. He turned away and closed his eyes.

Osbourne understood Matthew's disquiet. "I wish I had better answers to your questions. As far as I know you and your wife have nothing to worry about. These things are not certain."

"I don't need platitudes Dr. Osbourne," Matthew shouted. "I need to hear the absolute truth."

"And I don't want you spending your child's life worried about the future."

At that Matthew's head snapped back. He pulled himself together. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Osbourne couldn't leave it without some hope for the younger man. "I will give a call to Sir William at the Glasgow Royal Infirmary. He can give your case a more thorough examination and keep you informed on the latest developments in genetics and neurosurgery."

Matthew stood up. "Thank you. I'll go to the apothecary and get the prescription made." They shook hands and Matthew took his leave.

So here he was on the train back to Downton. He was drowsy because of the tincture prescribed for his headaches. All he wanted to do was sleep for days. Though he needed the laudanum to stop the pounding and aching in his head, he was irritable and not himself. He lashed out at subordinates in York Barracks and was late to duty on more than one occasion. He was informed of the decision of the Medical Board and received pats on the back from fellow officers upon his orders to take medical leave.

He felt like an utter failure. That was not the worst of it. His mother would take the news with the indomitable spirit she took most things. He wasn't sure he'd like her all knowing look that he had allowed himself to hope for things simply not in the cards dealt to him.

But then he wouldn't be able to see it anymore, now would he?

Matthew pulled the shade down on the train window. The glare hurt his eyes.

How could he tell Mary?

XX

Mary sat down to tea alone.

The butler Harris and upper house parlour maid Agnes walked in with trays. The woman laid the tea things down on a side table.

"There's a telephone call, m'lady," Harris said to Mary. "Captain Crawley is on the line."

Her head shot up. "Thank you." And as much as her growing body allowed she hurried to the alcove where the telephone had finally been installed to Robert's insistence two years ago.

"Matthew?"

"Darling!" His voice sounded strained.

"Is everything all right?"

"I…I." He fell apart at the sound of her voice. "I'm here at Crawley House. I need to talk with you. In person."

"Why not just drive over here? You know where it is."

"Can you just ask McGowan to drive you over here? I'll explain when you get here… No...Wait a minute..." Matthew didn't like how the medication made his thinking fuzzy. "You can't come here. According to Molesley, Mother's in and out from the convalescent hospital helping out where she can. She's not here right now but she could be back. I'll walk over to the Dower House."

"Walk? But it's over two miles…If you want I can call Papa to send Hodgkin's."

"I can do with the exercise. And the day's turned out sunnier than it was on the train. I'd like to clear my head."

"Why? Matthew you're not making much sense…"

"I'll explain when I get there." Matthew's hand gripped the receiver, his voice tight. "Just wait for me."

"Very well." Mary said, not understanding his stubbornness but sensing his anxiety she said no more. "I'm glad to hear your voice my love."

Matthew coughed, masking what Mary thought was a choking sound. "Wait for me."

He put the receiver down and made ready to leave before his mother returned. He knew that even his visit might be dangerous to Mary's health. Dr. Osbourne had recommended a GP down Harley Street and Matthew had take the precaution of getting a check up to ensure he was not infected with the flu. As far as the GP knew Matthew was fine.

It was a calculated risk but he really needed to speak to his wife in person.

He turned to Molesley. "I will call to have my bags forwarded to the Dower House if I choose to stay. I'll let you know. And I'll telephone later when Mother returns."

"Very good sir."

Matthew walked out into the fresh air. The train had felt closed in, stifling. The dull grey skies matching his mood. Now the skies had cleared and the breeze felt good. But his mood had not changed for he could barely make out any of the landscape and the world appeared narrow and small.

He walked on, knowing the path around Downton ultimately led to the outer edges of the land designated for the Dower House. It was all still part of the estate and as Matthew strolled he realized the inattention of the farms and fields that lay untended and disused. Was this caused by the war or years of benign neglect he did not know. But surely that must be part of why Robert was so worried about Downton's future.

There must be ways to modernize and improve the estate. He'd have to talk with Robert at some point. He got the impression that his lordship wanted to ask Matthew to use some of the remaining funds from the Swire inheritance towards the estate.

He frowned. All of that would have to be put on hold for now.

Other factors took precedence.

The laudanum's effect was to slow his progress. It took longer than he thought to reach the front door of the Dower House and he was drained when he finally pulled the bell.

The door opened and Harris guided Matthew inside. "You're expected in the morning room, sir."

"Thank you."

Matthew moved towards the door and Harris opened it. He walked inside. Mary sat on the window seat. He couldn't believe how much the baby had grown while he was away. Her abdomen was round and full. He squinted to focus better. To capture her every look, her every nuance. To savour it. To breath in her scent and burnish her beauty into his mind.

She got up and walked towards him. "He's kicking up a storm." She placed his hand on her belly. They were alone and he looked in need of her warm touch. To feel the life within her.

He appeared so haggard, so sad. As if he had the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

Mary felt his hand shaking against her.

Then he felt the first flutter.

His eyes flew open. He gasped. Trying to say something, his mouth opened but nothing came out.

Matthew kept his hand on Mary's belly, the kicks becoming stronger with each thrust.

"Does it hurt?" He finally managed to ask.

"Not yet. Sometimes he keeps me up at night but I'm getting more used to them."

"He?" Matthew raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Granny says boys are carried narrow on the belly where girls are wide. I'm saying the baby's a boy." Mary justified her use of the male gender by placing Matthew's hands on each side of her abdomen. "See."

Matthew had to agree the baby was entirely to the front of her body and low on her belly. "I love your bump no matter the gender."

"Come and sit down." She guided Matthew over to the window seat.

"Where is Cousin Violet?" Matthew took her hand and sat down. He didn't let it go.

"She's decided to visit her niece Susan MacClare at Duneagle in Scotland. Her husband Shrimpie is a minister at the Foreign Office and is busy in London. She was lonely and called Violet."

Mary reached up and stroked Matthew's face. It was so careworn. "She'll be gone about a fortnight or so."

Matthew relaxed a bit. It would be simpler to tell Mary alone. Worry about the family later.

"Have you settled in here? I know you'd rather be home but …"

Mary nodded, "It's not safe for the baby."

"Or any of us really. They're saying already 200,000 people in England alone have died from what is really something called heliotrope cyanosis signaling the shortage of oxygen and death."

Mary groaned and her hands flew to her stomach.

"I got quite the lecture from the GP I saw. I'm fine and so I decided to come and see you. I'm not sure we can travel anywhere though without incurring some strain. They're spraying the streets of London with chemicals but it seems to do no good."

"When do you have to go back?"

"Well that's the thing…" He paused and turned towards his wife. He tried to look in her eyes, searching to see if she would have the strength to deal with the life that was now to be dealt them. He blinked over and over, trying desperately to focus on her face. The narrowness of his peripheral vision interfered with any attempt to see her clearly. He felt his face flush in frustration, break out in a sweat.

"I…"

He got up and stalked the floor. Pacing back and forth.

Mary let him. She'd let him tell her in his own time.

He walked back and fell at her feet. Kneeling, he took her hands into his own. She met his gaze with such incandescent love that even he was not blind to it. "I afraid I'm losing my eyesight. It started failing a few weeks ago along with these progressively painful headaches."

Her grip got tighter.

"I've been forced to take extended medical leave because of it. I am also on a very strong prescription of laudanum."

Mary kissed his cheek. It felt so hot.

"My sight…" His breath was heavy, struggling. "I can still see my darling. But it is limited. I don't know…I don't know how much longer…" He had to stop. And when he tried again they were interrupted by Agnes returning to clean up the tea things.

Matthew muttered an oath under his breath and broke off, unwilling to continue until they were strictly alone again.

His wife covered for him. "Thank you, Agnes," Mary said returning to the more formal tone she used with staff.

"If you please m'lady your mother is on the telephone."

Matthew sluggishly got to his feet and took a seat in a nearby chair, defeated. He grimaced but nodded, acknowledging Mary's look of consternation.

He held out his hand. "Go," he whispered hoarsely. "We can talk later."

She let go of his fingers slowly and left the room.

"Mama?" Mary was unsteady on her feet as she reached for the receiver that lay on the table. She wouldn't let Matthew see her frailty. But she didn't need any more bad news from Downton. "Is anything the matter?"

"The opposite," was the response on the other end. "Sybil has telegrammed that she's being transferred to London General to aid with this awful flu. She's fine however. And will no longer be in danger's path."

Mary's heart was joyful at that news. Sybil that much closer to home.

"I'm going to stay with Rosamund and see her."

"Won't Papa object? Put yourself in harm's way?" Mary blurted out.

She could hear her mother's stubbornness. "I want to be near my baby. I'll take precautions."

"Oh Mama…"

"My mind's made up. You stay well out of it though. I will rest easy knowing you're safe."

"Matthew's here with me. He arrived a few hours ago from York. He…"

"That's wonderful. Darling I have to go get my trunks ready with O'Brien. You give him our love. I'm glad you have the company. Don't worry about us. Edith has the hospital in hand. Isobel has offered to help out as well with the books."

And she rang off professing her love to Mary.

Mary hung up, frustrated at her mother's seeming whim to put herself in harm's way.

She returned to the morning room to find Matthew asleep in the chair, the last of his energy sapped. His beautiful face at rest was that of a sleeping angel. Suddenly his mouth twitched and curled downward at the corners. His body gave a sharp jerk and he tossed to the other side of the wing backed chair. And with a start he woke up, his face drained of all colour. He blinked and squinted at Mary as if he couldn't really see her at all.

"It's the laudanum," he managed to mutter though his mouth was bone dry. "I'm … I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

"Let's go upstairs."

He nodded and tried to get up but stumbled and sat back down. His face now an agonized mix of rage and despair.

Mary left the room and got Harris. She explained briefly that Captain Crawley was unwell and needed some help getting to their bedroom and Matthew struggled again to his feet and, leaning on the butler, made it up the stairs and into the strange bedroom at the back of the Dower House.

It was beautifully appointed and furnished but much of it was just splotches of colour and light and he let go of Harris's shoulder and lay down. He nodded thanks and then drifted off to sleep again.

When he finally awoke he was undressed down to his undershirt and shorts. The blankets round his shoulders twisted and misshapen as he must have tossed and turned.

He was so cold.

Mary was lying next to him, an arm draped protectively around his torso.

It was morning already. He heard the birds in the trees next to the window. A streak of sunlight cut through the curtain.

And then a swift knock on the door.

Matthew bolted up, surprised by the sound.

"Come in…" His wife murmured, though Mary had no idea why Agnes was bothering them so early. She had insisted Anna go back to Downton to tend to her husband until such time as he was well and she was making do with the upper house parlour maid doubling as her lady's maid.

"M'lady…" Agnes was flustered, excited. "Sir… I thought you'd want to know the big house telephoned to say the Kaiser abdicated yesterday. All indications the war is finally over. More announcements expected today."

Mary reached for Matthew. "I hardly believe it."

Matthew said, "I knew there were indications of unrest in German cities and hope that would disrupt the government. I didn't know it would come so swiftly."

Agnes said crisply, "I'll bring up your tray shortly," she bowed and retreated from the room.

Mary got up and put on her silk robe. "I hope this means the family can be all together soon once again. Too long have we all been a part from each other."

Matthew rubbed his face with his hands. His mouth felt sticky and he was in desperate need of a bath.

As long as he kept his eyes closed he could pretend nothing was wrong. He could imagine opening them and seeing Mary's lovely face lit from the news of potential peace. From the glow that motherhood brought. He would take her in his arms and kiss her long and deep.

Nothing would mar their bliss.

But he knew, knotting him inside and making him want to howl in protestation, that it would not be so.

He opened his eyes and his vision blurred and distorted everything he could see. He tried to fight the onset of anguish. It was so unfair that at this moment of ultimate happiness, he should be withdrawing into the darkness once again.

He started to tremble.

"I'm here darling," Mary's voice reached out to him. She climbed over the covers so he could take her in his arms and see her hair cascading in waves of curls down her shoulders. Her abdomen extended showing the growth of their child. "I'll always be here."

He buried his face in her hair. "Oh Mary, Mary. I will love you until the last breath leaves my body."

She heard his pain, wanted to take it all away from him but knew she could not. She could only affirm her love. Her commitment. "Me too, Matthew. Me too."

XX

 _We'll get through Matthew's struggles together. Love is love is love. And unlike The Ticket this story will not stop at the darkness but see the light on the other side._


	20. Chapter 20

_Well this chapter took a different route than I expected... a definitely M rated route after Matthew sees Mary at her bath :)_

XX

11am on November 11 was observed quietly at the Dower House. Harris gathered the minimal staff of Agnes Stewart and the cook Mrs. Harmon to join Lady Mary and Captain Crawley in the drawing room for a moment of silence. Matthew hoped he wasn't expected to say anything as he had no wise words to say. No prayer of deliverance of the great and good from the evil of their enemy. Instead as the hour hand ticked to the top and the gong started, Mary squeezed his hand and they all bowed their heads to just remember all that had passed and hope for a better future to come.

His jaw clenched. Future? What future? But this was not the day for selfish wallowing. He got it under control. This was a moment, a minute, a time to reflect on those lost. Instead he summoned up the memories of those wounded at St. Dunstan's and in the casualty station in France, their faces either unknown to him or just a blurred succession of scared, frightened men.

Mary also reflected on her experiences of trying to comfort the wounded at the convalescent facility at Downton. Some of the names of the men who had died unexpectedly were in her memory. She had to write them down in the log accounts. Baker, Hoffman, Jenkins, Locke…

So many names.

When the clock ticked ahead to 11:01am Matthew and Mary retired to the smaller morning room where another fire had been lit.

Matthew threw himself into the chair by the fire, opening up the buttons on his service uniform tunic.

He turned away from Mary.

"Another headache?"

"No. Not yet." He quickly changed the subject. "I'm sorry we couldn't join your family at Downton. Robert said he very much wanted us there but I…"

"I know. It's too dangerous." Mary reached for the cup of tea Agnes handed her. She adjusted the tray and then left the room. Mary had given the staff the rest of the day off to go celebrate or remember however they saw fit.

"Mother was full of horror stories about people gathering together and then half of them ending up with the flu. I didn't know what else to do but tell him we'd remain here."

"Like Granny's cholera stories from Paris," Mary shivered.

Matthew's conversation with his mother over the telephone the previous day had been strained. She had wanted to know all the details from the ophthalmologist and had said she'd contact the surgeon Sir William Macewan about Matthew's case. He let her do what she wanted as her nature was always placated by searching for some kind of solution to a problem. But they had agreed that neither should travel given the spread of the influenza and risk infecting each other or Mary and the baby.

"I know it's not what you wanted," his mother said before she rang off. "But I'm glad to have you nearby and with Mary at this time. You'll be far safer there than you would be had you remained with your regiment."

Matthew had asked she not divulge the information to anyone, given her his love, and hung up the phone. Be that as it may, part of him still had wanted to see the war out as a serving officer. Demobilization will be the next step in any event now that the war was over. The North Ridings would expedite one for him probably given his status as the Earl of Grantham's heir as well as his medical condition. He had been living on his officer's pay for the past year, not accepting anything from Robert's stipend or the inheritance. The idea had been to pass the solicitor's exam as quickly as possible and find work at a law firm in Ripon. That way he'd never have to use the Swire money for personal gain. Mary had a marriage settlement from her father that would cover her own material needs but he wanted to support his growing family with his own income.

Matthew had spent the entire night fretting about the future as a result. He was in no shape to study for any exam right now nor begin the lengthy legal and bureaucratic process of getting the Swire Trust underway. Why did everything have to come crashing down just when the world decided to wake up from the nightmare?

He shifted restlessly in his chair, refusing to think only of himself. "It's impossible to imagine soldiers returning home alive after what they've seen and experienced only to have their loved ones suffering and possibly dying from this flu. It's too awful for words to describe."

Mary blanched as well at that thought. So much suffering.

"' _We go to gain a little patch of ground that hath in it no profit but the name_.'" Matthew murmured.

"What is that?"

"One of the captain's in Fortinbras's army in _Hamlet_. I used to run lines with some of the students in amateur dramatics at school. The drama master wouldn't let me play a role but I had memorized all the parts."

Mary noticed the bitterness that crept in at that admission but said nothing.

"Though it was spoken four hundred years ago, it pretty much sums up the uselessness of this war. I met an officer at Kemmel Hill who had been in the thick of it. Reid had been wounded and seconded to the sound ranging unit as a tactical specialist in the mapping room. Late one night in the mess we got to talking. He said there 'could not be any argument, any dispute that was worth so many people's lives. So much blood.' He got so angry he threw his glass into the fire. 'There's something monstrous, evil about it all,' he had continued, 'bolstered up at home by people not knowing what's going on.'"

"Can you talk about it now?" Mary had been surprised he had let slip where he had been in Belgium and what he had been doing there. She knew so little about that time of his life.

"The war is over." He shrugged indifferently. "I'm not actually sure but I don't think you'll inform an enemy who presumably is no longer an enemy."

"When you went missing," Mary had wanted to ask this for so long. "What happened?"

Matthew exhaled, "It came out of the blue. I had just received the letter about Lavinia and hadn't had a chance to even let it sink in when some were ordered to go out on a line repair. It was then that we encountered the German patrol. Captain Buchanan had us hole up in a damaged chateau and we were out of contact for a couple of days."

"Why did you go out? I thought your work was restricted."

"I volunteered to go. It was behind the lines and wasn't supposed to be dangerous. It sometimes got very claustrophobic in the huts and after receiving that letter, I … I just needed to get out."

"So, if you hadn't read that you wouldn't have gone?"

"I'll never know." Matthew stretched his hand across to Mary's. "I'm glad the news came from Reggie rather than reading about it in the papers as part of some casualty list. I made the decision to go just as I made the decision to break my vows to Lavinia. I am accountable for my actions." He paused, his voice getting harder. "I once tried to include you in that blame. That we were cursed and never meant to be together because of what we did. But that was just petulance. I did what I did because I loved you so madly. I wanted Lavinia to find that kind of love as well. But this war had other ideas."

He spoke those words so bitterly. Mary said, trying to diffuse the situation, "It's all over now."

"Yes." Matthew whispered. "All over."

"Are you feeling tired?" Mary had barely gotten the words out when he snapped back, "Don't treat me like an invalid."

She retorted defensively, "I'm not I'm just worried about your…"

"Please don't talk about it." He cut her off. "It makes my head hurt."

Mary felt rebuffed and shifted herself away from him saying no more.

It was like walking around on eggshells.

Matthew slumped. After a few moments of strained silence, he tried again. "I'm sorry. I'm just not ready to talk about it yet. Can't we just be together for a while."

Mary noticed him struggling to see her clearly. His eyes squinted and narrowed.

"Of course." She said with a noticeably lighter tone. "I'm feeling a bit claustrophobic myself. What do you say about a long walk?"

Matthew knew what she was doing and adored her all the more after what a prig he had been just a few minutes earlier. "Thank you. I'd love to take a walk."

They left by the front door, arm in arm, the crispness in the air signifying the change of season and the twist that rather than autumn representing the end of things, it was instead just the beginning.

XX

The next few days were spent in a restful routine. They rose, ate a small breakfast, took walks in the morning to take some exercise and spent the afternoon either quietly in the morning room or keeping in contact with family members by telephone. After a light dinner either in the dining room or on trays upstairs depended upon Matthew's need to sleep or Mary's to rest, they retired to bed.

Mary fretted about her mother and Sybil's safety in London. They spoke on the telephone almost every other day. Sybil was never busier with all of the new influenza cases and Cora complained her youngest was run off her feet. But Mary got the distinct impression Sybil loved being busy. She felt useful and it kept her worrying about any future she might not have once Tom's volunteer shift with the Ambulance Corps was complete. He'd be back in England very soon. And their future would have to be decided once and for all.

"Sybil darling," Mary pleaded. "Do nothing rash again. You had us all so worried with that escape to Scotland."

"Seems a lifetime ago," Sybil said. "And besides it did allow for your relationship with Matthew to progress very nicely."

Mary touched her mouth, remembering Matthew's warm lips upon her own that night in the garage. She had felt the pressure, the longing in that kiss. It had been illicit and thus that much more intoxicating and thrilling. A rash act done under the cloak of darkness and prompted by built up tension during the long drive to and from Scotland.

Sybil added, "I heard from Mama that Matthew is with you. I was surprised he was given priority demobilization."

"Who told you that?"

"No one. I surmised it given his extended leave. That is it, isn't it? Is everything all right? His adenoma hasn't shifted again?"

Mary hesitated in loyalty to Matthew's privacy. What could she rightfully disclose?

But in that moment Sybil knew. "It has, hasn't it? I'm so sorry Mary. And on top of all this other business. I'm glad you have each other to lean on."

Her wistful tone indicating just how much she missed Tom.

Mary would not confirm Sybil's suspicions about Matthew's eyesight. But she loved Sybil's generous insight to realize that even if Matthew was struggling himself, it was better that they were together. And she determined Sybil would have the same. "I want to have a long talk with you when we're all together. I know we can work something out about Branson… I mean Tom."

"Only if Papa accepts Tom. I won't return to Downton permanently without him."

Sybil's words were hard, firmly set, Mary realized. So straightforward and confident. No longer a pouty child, Sybil had seen a great many things and she was no longer naïve about the ways of the world.

"We will make it happen." Mary was determined her father also realize he no longer could control the destinies of his children.

Changing the subject to yet another area of concern, Mary asked "How is Mama? She sounded very tired when we last spoke."

"I'll have one of the staff take a look at her when she's here next. She's volunteered to help with some office work and will be in later today. If she's looking pale and peaky, they will give her instructions to return to Painswick House immediately."

Mary's sigh was so despondent Sybil heard it across the receiver. "Don't distress yourself. You know that's bad for the baby. Go and rest. Everything is in order right now."

"Yes Matron," Mary gave a weary laugh. "I will attempt your prescription at once." She then asked her sister, "Has Edith been in touch?"

Sybil said, "She tried but I was working and couldn't get to the telephone."

"She called me yesterday and she's finally managed to get Anthony to set a date for their wedding. She wanted to know if it was fine that they go ahead and get married in just a small family ceremony ahead of the baby's birth. Sometime around Christmas."

"Something else to look forward to then. I'm in need of good news."

Mary rang off as Sybil was called away by one of the doctors. "I'll be in touch again. My love to Matthew."

She hung up the receiver and went to look for Agnes about sending up some food on a tray as she expected Matthew would also want a quiet night.

That same afternoon Matthew had conversed with Robert about a possible date for their return to Downton. The Earl said he had already been on the line with the government about decommissioning Downton as a convalescent facility and the soldiers would probably be moved to other facilities or allowed to go home within a month. Once they disinfected, cleaned, and cleared the rooms then Clarkson said it would be safe for Mary to return. So the family would be together by Christmas.

"That's great news Robert. Mary will be pleased."

"What about yourself my boy? Will it be into the next year before you are officially demobbed? I know the red tape can take months."

"Won't be that long. They want to get on with things," Matthew dissembled, unwilling to tell the true facts just yet. "In any event I've been assured by General Strutt my only duty now is to Lady Mary."

"I can't argue with that." Robert said. "Her mother says Mary speaks to Major, or I guess we'll soon be back to Doctor Clarkson, every week."

"Just about," Matthew answered, switching hands on the receiver so he could rub his brow. He had gone several days now without a headache or need to use the laudanum and he was just again feeling something akin to himself. He didn't want a relapse. "He wants to keep in regular contact as she can't come into the surgery right now. I've been shown how to take her pulse and blood pressure to make sure she gets both some rest and some exercise each day." The sphygmomanometer was delivered and left on the door step the previous week and Matthew, who already had an inkling as to how to inflate the cuff with the hand pump and read the meter, got a very long winded, detailed set of instructions from Clarkson along with a pad and pencil to write down all the numbers to recite upon his next phone call.

He rang off and returned to the sitting room where Violet had a Victorian walnut roll top desk he had been using to attempt to put together a business plan. He really hadn't got much further than consulting a solicitor by telephone about the legal arrangements setting up a charitable trust and attempting to come up with a name. He had written down several options and crossed them out before settling on the Swire Trust for the Employable Blind.

The house was very quiet and as he sat against the chairback he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

When he woke it was early evening. The light no longer shone through the window and Matthew realized he had slept far longer than he had meant.

Why hadn't Mary come to get him or fetch Harris to see what had happened when he didn't come to the dining room for dinner?

He rubbed his face and then got up from the chair. Walked across the room and opened the door. Still no sound. The electric light on the hall table illuminated the passage leading upstairs. Mary must have given everyone an early night. When he made it to the top step he heard a splashing sound from the bath next to their bedroom.

Mary must be relaxing.

He smiled and knocked lightly. "Mary?"

"Come in."

Matthew walked inside. Violet had updated the white enamel floor with decorative tiles, new porcelain fixtures and marble wainscoting. The huge claw footed bathtub was tucked against the back wall and connected to modern plumbing fixtures. Though the water pressure was chronically weak, the hot water was generous and Mary often took to the bath to soothe her aching back muscles. The pregnancy was in the last trimester and the stiff Victorian wingback chairs in Violet's morning room were not conducive to comfortable sitting.

"Hello darling," kneeling down beside the tub. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"There was nothing on for the afternoon. I looked in and you looked so peaceful I didn't want to disturb you." She reached for a flannel.

He watched Mary's sinuous movements as she continued her ablutions. Graceful, slim arms. Swan like neck. Elegant fingers grasping the soapy washcloth and the drops of water as she drew a drew it along her arm and up her neckline.

"Would you like to?" She enquired, looking directly at him. She held out the cloth. "You have said in the past you don't mind getting wet."

A seductively arched eyebrow accompanied her invitation.

"I don't mind at all," Matthew replied with bated breath. He stood up and took off his shoes, socks, coat, and tie. Loosened his top button and rolled up his sleeves.

Matthew snuck a quick peek around to the door.

"Agnes has gone to bed. I told her I could take care of myself."

Better and better, Matthew thought. He dipped the cloth into the bubbly warm water, the faint scent of gardenias brushing his nose. Leaned his body against the cool marble and reaching over to turn on the hot water and with his hand he made sure the temperature was just right so that Mary could dip her hair under the spigot. Her arms reached above her head as she threaded her fingers through the strands of hair to pull it together to wet it. She moved back and slicked it all against her head and shoulders.

Glistening wet and the picture of beauty and sensuality, Matthew could not take his eyes away from his wife's body. He was so close he could see her clearly. Her breasts were perfectly formed, full and shapely in anticipation of the baby's birth. Her belly expanded as the child grew, the skin taut.

"You are radiant."

"I'm beginning to feel like a whale but I do appreciate the compliment." She cradled the rounded form of her abdomen. "He's very lively today."

Matthew's hands reached for the shampoo. He lathered it into a foamy froth and gathered Mary's long, silky tresses into his hands and began to massage the suds into her scalp. She leaned her head into him making his own chest hairs bristle with goosebumps. His strokes were confident, his fingers deep and pressured. He then took a small bowl and filled it with clear, cool water and rinsed the suds from her hair.

She shifted to make it easier for him to get all the remaining shampoo. Some of the water splashed out and soaked his vest. He took it off and undid all the buttons of his dress shirt. Took it off and was left only in his undershirt and trousers.

"Will you hand me my robe?" Mary began to wring the remaining water droplets out and wound her hair up into a twisted bun.

He found the silken garment and reached for it. Mary started to lift herself out of the tub but lost her footing. Matthew lunged forward and caught her before she fell.

She was shaking as Matthew wrapped her within his protective arms. Mary was as strong and independent a woman as he had ever met. She resisted any notion that this pregnancy made her weak or incapable. But Dr. Clarkson had warned both of them that as the baby grew her center of gravity would shift and any fall would be dangerous for both mother and child.

"How clumsy of me," Mary tried to cover up her fear. "I can barely see my feet anymore the baby's getting so huge he must be a giant."

Matthew did his best to laugh it off as well. "We'll have to get a bigger cot in that case."

But he didn't let go of her.

The embraced shifted from protective to sensual. His long fingers moving down her back to cup the cheeks of her buttocks. She inched closer, feeling his hot breath on her face. His mouth made a path of sweet kisses down her cheek as it edged towards her full lips.

Tongues twisted as lips met and Matthew moved deep inside her mouth, brushing his tongue against her palate.

"Mary…Mary…" Matthew's call of her name breathless and heated. His face, eyes open to see her fully accept his love. His lust. His need to possess her.

"Take me to bed…" Her own voice ragged as her need rose to meet his.

Suddenly he pulled away. "What about the baby?" He knew so little about these things and it hadn't occurred to ask Clarkson, if he could even muster the courage, as the man had blathered on about the blood pressure gauge.

"I asked him," Mary reassured him. "Dr. Clarkson said it was fine."

"Well in that case..." Matthew boosted her up into his arms and carried her gingerly to the bed. His own condition making him extra careful. There was so very little time the little voice inside his head tortured him. He forced the thought into a dark corner of his mind and concentrated all his energy on making love to Mary.

He lay her down on the folded back covers and shimmied out of his trousers and undershirt. She reached out to him and, once he was on the bed, she took off his undershorts and touched him. He shuddered as her fingers grazed and glided around in circles. So delicate yet so sensual he could hardly remain vertical and so tumbled down onto the covers next to her. She continued to stroke from tip to shaft and back again, steadily mounting pressure, her guide the grunts that sprang from the well of his mouth coming out in guttural moans of pleasure.

The surge threatened to over take him, but it was far too early for that. So Matthew turned to give some back. Mary lay against the sheets and his eyes raked greedily over her body. She knew what he was doing and encouraged it more by spreading her arms and legs and moving him towards her. He bent down and kissed her, maneuvering his body atop hers delicately. His hands slipped down the curvature of her waist, feeling the bump of her belly. He kissed her rounded abdomen as he made his way down to her thighs. She gripped his arse, fingernails digging into him. He circled each of her breasts with his tongue, gently tugging the nipples with his lips and teeth.

He could see the blood rise in her cheeks as his ministrations made its impact. She groaned when he stopped so he tore his eyes away from her beautiful face and, after kissing her belly button, nudged open her thighs with his face. Her hips instinctively relaxed and she felt his mouth on her, his tongue caressing the most sensitive part of her. She lurched as the sensations overwhelmed and bliss filled her body. He moved his hands around her backside so he could lift her body up to fill her some more with pleasure. As she began to feel the first aching, peaking waves Mary wanted him inside of her. She moved slightly and he lifted up and crawled back up so he could plunge into her open thighs just as the crest of the wave sent her over the edge and she clutched the sheets and lunged towards him to get as much of him as she possibly could. Writhing against the sheets he rocked and thrust harder and harder until he felt an explosion of heat and mindless gratification.

Hardly able to breathe, the room spun as he opened his eyes once more. It was all a blur as his mind tried to make sense of anything.

Mary fell back against the sheets, sweat mingling with the remaining droplets of water from the bath. "Come lay down love," she called out to Matthew who looked down and blinked rapidly as he tried to focus on her face, her voice.

He moved and positioned himself beside her, one leg still draped over her own.

They cuddled, saying nothing.

Mary reached over and kissed his cheek. It was flaming hot. A slow smile crossed his lips, his eyes dilated with excitement.

His eyes were so very blue, so very beautiful. Mary pursed her lips, shoving aside the aching fear that suddenly gripped her. She wouldn't have him see that for the world.

Everything would be all right. She had to believe that.

"Darling," she said instead. "I've been thinking. What do you think of George Matthew Crawley for the baby's name?"

Matthew wrapped his arms around his wife and they spooned together for a little longer before getting up to dress into the night clothes and for Matthew to stoke the fire. The chill of the air already making Mary shiver.

"Isn't your father's middle name George? I think I saw that on some of the legal documents when I was named heir?"

"It's one of them. He's got several." Mary replied. "And I know it's also your father's middle name from when you mother showed me the family bible after we were wed. I think it's perfect therefore."

Matthew smiled in approval. "George it is…." He paused. "Of course it still might be a girl. I wouldn't mind a sweet little baby girl."

Mary chortled. "I wasn't a sweet baby. Mama said I could bawl up a storm if I wasn't getting enough attention." All of a sudden Mary lurched forward as the baby punched against her ribs. She grunted in discomfort. "I'm just ready for the little munchkin to be born before he …" She conceded, "…or she does me in. I'm running out of space in there."

She snuggled back down beside him.

Matthew held her close feeling the kicks and flutters, taking in the moment and making it last forever.

XX  
 _So back to Downton next chapter with the family reunited and anticipating the birth in the new year. The quotation and the war story originated in an episode of the original Upstairs/Downstairs_


	21. Chapter 21

Hodgkins's eased the Rolls in front of the main entrance door. Mary and Matthew's return to Downton had been delayed a further fortnight but they were finally home. Mary looked out the side window and noticed Cora and Robert awaited with solemn expressions before her mother spotted her and waved, making an effort to hide her previous gloom.

At least it had stopped raining.

Matthew got out first and, still holding her hand, helped his wife down the step and onto the gravel drive. He surreptitiously held onto the door handle for stability.

"My dears," Cora said. "You're looking well."

Mary accepted her mother's embrace. "So are you. After Sybil's reports from London I expected you to have come down with this dreadful flu."

Cora reassured, "I've been checked out by Dr. Clarkson and I'm fine. Sybil is still in London. She refuses to come home until she's done all she can."

Robert turned to Matthew. "My boy. So glad to finally have you back here for good."

Matthew's head was pounding but he concentrated on Robert's outstretched hand to accept it and return the firm grip. Robert didn't even notice Matthew's hesitation.

They all walked inside.

Hodgkins and a new footman Mary didn't recognize brought in their bags.

"Whatever is the matter Mama? Where is Carson?" Mary removed her hat and gloves and handed them to Ellen, a parlour maid hired during the war. "Is Anna still with Mr. Bates?"

Cora dodged the question. "Come into the library. I've rung for tea."

Mary and Matthew exchanged confused looks but followed the earl and countess inside. Mary realized how unnaturally quiet the house was again now that the hospital staff and patients had evacuated. The room had also been restored to its pre-war arrangement. It was as if nothing had happened in the interim. But of course, it had. Europe had tried to destroy itself, taking a whole generation of young men along with it.

Her parents obviously had already started to obliterate all reminders. As Matthew said, it would be up to their generation to commit to memory all that had happened.

When they all were seated across from each other Cora explained, "Carson is at the village hospital. He's recovering from a bout of the flu but is still quite weak."

"Poor man," Mary said. "I wish I could go visit." But at Matthew's alarmed glance, assured him that "I know I cannot."

"That's not all." Cora gave a heavy sigh. "There's no good way to say this but Mr. Bates I'm afraid didn't make it. He died about ten days ago at the cottage he shared with Anna. She is quite devastated. We've given her as much time as she needs."

Mary looked sharply at her mother. "Why didn't you tell me."

"Anna said not to. She didn't want you disturbed while you were safely away from it all."

"Is that why we were told to remain at Granny's?"

Her father interjected, "Clarkson wanted that. He didn't want any more unnecessary transmissions of this flu from one person to another. So the fewer people in the house the better."

"When will this epidemic cease to be so virulent?" Mary frustratingly knew there was no answer to that. Her head bowed, fingers twisting a handkerchief. "I can't even go see her. I feel quite helpless."

Matthew put a supportive arm around his wife's shoulder.

"Needless to say it's going to be a quiet Christmas. Edith has been with us since the hospital closed. She's gone to fetch Sir Anthony in the Vauxhall for dinner tonight. He's been alone at Strallan Hall and is quite melancholy." Cora filled in details of the family's whereabouts.

"Cousin Violet decided to stay in Scotland for the holidays," Matthew added information for his in laws. "She telephoned Mary right before we left. The roads are quite treacherous she was informed with all this rain."

"Rosamund wanted to come but Clarkson said that was quite out of the question given the numbers stricken in London. She's barricaded herself at Painswick House since Cora left." Robert shook his head. "It's all out of our hands."

"Enough of this for the moment," Cora proclaimed. "You're both home. Safe. The baby's doing well. We will be together. This is enough."

Thomas Barrow, temporarily elevated to under butler, carried in the tea tray and set it down on the side table. Ellen placed the three-tier cake tray next to Cora. They then stood to the side.

Matthew started to reach for a scone but misjudged the distance and knocked over a ceramic serving plate. He bit back an oath as Ellen moved in to scoop up the fallen cakes.

He shrunk back against the divan seat, closing his eyes.

Mary saved his embarrassment by diverting her parent's attention to baby news. "I've been on the telephone with a London design firm to work on the nursery. I don't want stuffy old furniture from the attic but make it clean and modern. New linens, new bedding, new paint and wallpaper."

"What about the cradle? It's a family treasure." Cora was slightly put out at Mary's lack of interest in tradition. "All of you slept in it as babes."

Her daughter sniffed, "And therefore it's probably as old as the hills. We'll have to see if it fits with the new patterns."

Robert hoisted himself up from his chair. "I'm going to take advantage of the break in the rain if you're talking babies." He called for Isis who wagged her tail at the anticipation of a long walk. "Matthew?"

The younger man looked up, "I'll catch up with you later Robert if it's all the same." Matthew really needed to take a lie down and if Robert left he'd feel better about making his excuses and retreating upstairs to their bedroom. And as soon as master and dog left by the French doors down into the garden, he did so.

Matthew leaned down to kiss his wife's cheek. He didn't want her to get up on his behalf. She said quietly in his ear, "I'll be up shortly."

When Matthew left Cora turned to her daughter. "Is something amiss with Matthew? He seems very pale. He's not ill I hope?"

"No." Mary raised the cup to her mouth. "He's been having terrible bouts of headaches. He's got a prescription of laudanum from his specialist and it makes him fatigued."

"Is this a sign of something more serious?" Cora tried to be tactful.

After a pause Mary decided to confide in her mother. Matthew had never specifically bound her to secrecy but just wanted to put off telling her parents until they were all together. And in the coming weeks and months they would both need the support and love of all their family members. "His ophthalmologist is not optimistic. It's only a matter of time before he's completely blind again."

Cora reached out to take Mary's hand. In spite of her seeming composure, her daughter's hand was shaking.

"He doesn't want to talk about it so please don't say anything until he's ready. We've had a nice few quiet weeks at the Dower House. We've grown so close. He's putting on a show of being the good soldier about it but I know it's eating him up inside."

"How are you bearing up?"

"I wouldn't be a very good wife if I didn't show I'm on his side." Mary declared, shifting slightly on the divan.

Cora detected distress behind that spousal defence. "You're not alone, my darling. We're all on his side."

"Are we all?" Mary said with more acidity. "Does Papa really want a blind heir? You remember what he was like when Matthew was first named such by Mr. Murray? He raged and claimed we'd have to find another."

Her mother rejoined, "And I recall you asked if you had to feed him at the table like a child. I hope we've all learned to be better."

Mary pursed her lips, embarrassed by the unfeeling girl she had been. Was it only two years previous? She felt as if it was a lifetime ago.

Cora tried to soften the blow. "Maybe he's forgotten that. As he might have also forgotten Robert's disapproval."

"He remembers. But he wants us to believe he's forgiven our thoughtlessness. I'm not sure he really has. More that he was willing to move past it while he regained his sight. Now that it's failing again… " She shrugged helplessly. "I just don't know."

"The baby will smooth things over. Children have a way of doing that."

"Yes we've done our duty so Papa can rest assured. That is if it's a boy. That way he can skip Matthew entirely."

"Try not to be so cynical, Mary. It's not becoming."

Mary didn't like the rebuke. "I will be whatever I like. The war is over. A new age has begun. We no longer have to be completely subservient to our husbands."

"So in this new age, this what we have to look forward to? Bad manners and disrespect. I've had quite enough rebellion from Sybil. I hoped for more loyalty from you."

Mary didn't want to distress her mother. "I am loyal. Papa is very dear to me. I know he's been very low with no one in the War Office giving him a chance. Has he not relented at all with Sybil?"

"He still thinks it's all juvenile madness and she'll get over him once things are back to normal."

"Whatever that is," Mary drily said. "You'd think he know that by now."

"Robert wants to imagine everything will be back to the way it was. He wants her home so she can be made to do what the family wishes."

"You don't agree with him, I hope."

"I think we've all been changed too much by what's happened. How can we not be? Robert has too. He's not just recognized it yet. Give him more time."

Mary clasped her mother's hand. "I hope so. I'd hate to lose Sybil forever."

XX

"Anthony is making so many progressive decisions for the future at Strallan Hall. New equipment, new crops. He's hoping to work more closely with the tenants to divide the land for greater production while not interfering with their rights."

"I'm sure they don't want to hear about husbandry, my dear." Anthony chided. "So tedious." He side glanced Mary.

Her mouth twitched mischievously but Mary said nothing biting in return. It was true she found their neighbor dreadfully dull. But she was on her best behaviour tonight. Her father was still in a mood and Matthew kept his head down, pointlessly shifting the vegetables about on the plate as he ate nothing.

"Mama tells me the wedding is soon. When?" Mary looked across the table to her sister.

"Wednesday week before Christmas."

Mary calculated in her head. She knew she was due in six weeks in late January. "Why that's only a few days from now."

"It's a good thing you've both arrived back in time." Edith replied happily.

"And it will be at the church?"

"Yes. It's going to be very small because of the circumstance of people traveling with this epidemic," Edith conceded. "But it can't be helped."

"I've applied for the licence with the Vicar-General and as we've both lived in the parish for far longer than fifteen days it was quite straightforward," Anthony added.

"Rather unseemly I should say," Robert grumbled. "But no one listens to their papa anymore."

"That's not true," Edith tried to assuage her father. "I just don't want to wait to start our life together."

"And why should you?" Matthew interjected, getting everyone's attention as he had not spoken a single word throughout the meal. "Marriage is wonderful." His beatific smile at Mary was such that no one else existed in the world. And in that moment, in his mind, no one else did.

When the ladies retired, Robert motioned for Barrow to bring in the cigars and port.

"So what's this land scheme then Anthony?" Robert asked. "Jarvis is on me about the future." He waved the cigar in the air and looked askance as if it was all a bore. "What with all these new taxes I'm wondering if dabbling a bit in stocks and shares wouldn't be a quicker return on my investment."

"Not in the long run, surely." Matthew offered. "If, as Sir Anthony has done, you invest in new methods, new machinery the whole estate will benefit in the long run."

"Exactly so," Strallan said. "We can't fight progress, but we can find ways to soften the blow." He struggled a bit reaching out for the decanter and pouring a drink with his one hand but he did not ask for any help.

"Downton's existed in perfect harmony for years. We work with the farmers not throw them off their land."

"I don't think he's suggesting that…" Matthew laid an unfocused gaze on Robert which he hoped the older man didn't discern.

Robert puffed on his cigar, "Matthew you're very new to all this…."

It was his son in law's turn to bristle. "I was just trying to take an interest in estate affairs."

"Leave it to those who know son, eh?" At that Robert put out his cigar and stood up. He turned to Strallan. "I understand you're to stay the night as you want to see the vicar tomorrow in the village. When you've finished your port just ring for Barrow and he'll have the footman see you to your room."

"Good night gentlemen."

And with that he left the other two men alone.

Matthew should probably have offered to pour a last round for Strallan but he was afraid he'd miss the glass.

Strallan seemed to understand. "We make a fine pair. What with your eyes and my one arm why would anyone take up with us?" He reached out and topped off his drink. "I fear I will be nothing but a burden to Edith in the years to come."

Matthew's glass froze in mid-air. That was very close to his own worst nightmare. "I know what you mean."

"But that's all sorted for you. Edith said you regained your eyesight before your marriage to Lady Mary. It must be a relief." Strallan paused. "Or do I have that wrong?"

"I wish it were so." Matthew admitted bitterly. "But my recovery turned out to be temporary. I haven't told most of the family yet but it's only a matter of time before I lose my eyesight entirely once again."

Strallan leaned forward. "I hope you don't think this a breach of privacy…" He hesitated.

"Go ahead." Matthew allowed in a sotto voice.

"How has your wife taken it? I mean does she understand the consequences? People stare at us and give such pitying glances. I hate it. I feel Edith is still living the first glow of love and doesn't see a future where I'm enfeebled, crippled, and unable even to feed myself. She's so young and vital. She'll grow old before her time."

The utter bleakness of his predictions fell on Matthew's ears as analogous to his own.

Anthony noticed Matthew's deep frown. "I don't say any of this in front of her of course, but I rarely get the chance to talk to anyone who's in the same sort of situation even if it is not the exact affliction. I know I have to tell myself that I'm one of the lucky ones. I survived the war. So many did not. I don't like to feel self-pitying but it plagues my mind."

Matthew flicked the last ashes into the tray. "I tell myself the same thing. Snap out of it and stop the wallowing."

"It's not easy though. Not when you consider marriage."

"I meant what I said earlier. My marriage is the best thing that's ever happened to me. And Mary is a storm braver if ever I saw one. She's so strong. But I know, as you said, that she doesn't fully grasp what the future has in store. I fear it might tear us apart. I won't be able to drive a car. Or ride as she loves to do. I've never even seen her astride a horse. And now I realize I never will. I won't be able to see our children grow up…"Matthew's voice grew thick with emotional strain.

"This is too much for you," Strallan said. "I'm so sorry to have even broached the subject.

"No it's fine." Matthew's unfocused eyes looked dolefully over at the other man. "It's nothing that hasn't gone through my mind every night since this first started. I was living in a dream this wouldn't happen. And now I've been forced to return to reality. I'm not just afraid of becoming a burden, though. I'm afraid I've become dependent."

"Like an invalid, yes."

"Not just that. You see, her love is my reason to go on. Sometimes I think my only reason. She's so capable on her own." Matthew smashed the cigar into the ashtray, hating himself all the more. "And one day I might be too much for her. I'll lose her love and have only her pity. I'm not sure I want to ever live to see that day."

Strallan could only shake his head in agreement. The two men finished their drinks in silence and then stood up and walked out of the dining room towards the stairs. Everyone else had retired for the night. The older man held out his left hand for Matthew to shake, the right being the one amputated. "Good talking with you tonight Mr. Crawley."

Matthew recognized the gesture as one he did so as not embarrass the other party. "Matthew please since we're to be brothers in law. I'm sorry to cast such a pall of gloom. I shouldn't really talk when I have a headache. I can be quite morose. I look forward to your wedding and hope you will be as happy as I am in your marriage. Mary says I need to take one day at a time. I suggest you do the same."

Strallan appreciated the younger man was trying to put a good show despite his earlier pessimism. "Our wives are high minded women, full of spirit. We should stick together."

Matthew smiled and shook Strallan's hand. "Good night." He reached for the handrail and made his way slowly up the staircase. He had not taken any of the laudanum today as it would dull his brain and he wouldn't have been able to interact at all with the family.

Now, though, all he wanted to do was take a tincture and go to bed.

He entered his dressing room to find it semi-lit with Lang polishing a pair of Matthew's leather shoes.

"Lang?" Matthew queried. "I'd have thought you'd be in bed. I didn't mean for you to wait up."

"Have trouble sleeping, sir. And since you were downstairs I'd thought I would finish up some work." Lang stood and put the shoes down on the carpeted floor. "Let me help you with that." And he walked over to take the dinner jacket after Matthew had unbuttoned it. "Good to be home?"

Matthew nodded. The evening had tired him out more so than usual. He had gotten quite used to the quiet of the Dower House with just Mary for company. Now he had to small talk with Robert and catch up on family matters with Cora. The unsettling conversation with Strallan had brought up fears he normally kept in the deepest shadows of his mind.

"Go to bed and I'll see you in the morning." Matthew told the valet. "You've done enough."

Lang straightened the jacket on the hangar and placed the newly polished shoes in their place. He left Matthew to finish putting on his own pyjamas.

Matthew opened the door to their bedroom. Mary was fast asleep, her face illuminated by the full moon outside. He walked closer to take a better look. To soak in her beauty, fasten it to his memory.

Matthew always felt a greater sense of peace just being near his wife. She eased his mind. Matthew got under the covers. Mary, sensing his presences moved towards him, enveloping him in her warmth. His hand strayed to her stomach, stroking gently the child within.

They slept.

XX

The wedding morning turned beautiful. The rain subsided just in time for the bridal party to drive to St. Michael's and All Angels at 3pm for the private ceremony.

Edith had finished the final touches on the wedding gown with Anna and Mary's help. Mary fixes the laurel wreathed tiara around the veil after Anna put the finishing touches on Edith's hair.

Anna had been given a clean bill of health from Dr. Clarkson and had said she wanted to return to work as she needed it to occupy her mind and wanted to know that there was happiness left in this world.

Mary reached out and took her lady's maid hand. "You will always have a home here at Downton with us. I'm so very sorry about your tragic loss."

"Thank you m'lady. But he'll never be out of my thoughts." Anna turned to Edith. "I know what real love is. I wish the same for you. When you've got it there's nothing else."

Edith started to cry, "Oh dear. I know I shall be all weepy at the altar."

"Hush," Mary chided. "Crawley brides don't cry."

Edith was about to respond to that rebuke when she caught her sister's smile in the mirror.

"Well I can't be all sunshine and roses can I?" Mary said with a smirk, "I have to stay in character you know."

Edith relaxed at her sister's humour and stood up to take one final look in the mirror. She took a deep breath and pronounced, "I'm ready."

They all made a move downstairs to the waiting cars and after carefully ensuring Edith's gown was tucked inside, Barrow closed the door of the Rolls Royce. Cora, Edith, and Mary inside with Hodgkins at the wheel. Robert and Matthew in the Vauxhall being driven by James Kent the new footman.

The drive the church was quiet. The Vauxhall arrived first and Matthew got out to wait Mary's arrival. He stood silently beside Robert. He still had not told his father in law of his failing eyesight. There seemed to be no good time. And this was not it either.

The Rolls arrived and Hodgkins moved around to open the door. Mary stepped gingerly out of the car and Matthew met her and held onto her arm. They walked into the church and took their place in the front pew. Matthew helped his wife down as her center of gravity was ever shifting. Her mother beside them. Strallan had no immediate family and it was too dangerous to have many visitors come from out of town.

The bride approached the altar on her father's arm.

The groom turned and took his bride to be's hand. Robert took his seat next to Cora.

The vicar began the traditional words binding a couple in holy matrimony.

Mary squeezed Matthew's hand as they recollected the exchange of their vows in this very church.

When it was over they all returned to Downton for a celebratory meal and a specially improvised fruitcake by Mrs. Patmore, a miracle itself given the continuation of war time rationing.

The family expected Sybil to telephone her congratulations but throughout the late afternoon there was still no call.

When finally Barrow took his Lordship aside to tell him there was a telephone call, the word spread around the drawing room and he was followed by Cora, Mary, and Edith out to the saloon alcove.

"I see doctor. Yes." Robert's face turned ashen. "We will await further word."

And he put down the receiver and turned to the family.

"It seems Sybil has contracted this wretched flu. She's quarantined in a special ward at London General Hospital. They're doing all they can of course. But as we know this is a very tricky disease."

Cora's hand flew to her mouth to stem an agonizing cry. Both Edith and Mary moved to embrace their mother.

Matthew and Strallan both had made it to the saloon as well to hear Robert's pronouncement. Each strode towards their respective spouses to give whatever comfort they could.

Cora recovered sufficiently to say, "We must not upset Mary unduly. This late stage of the pregnancy is very delicate."

"Don't worry about me Mama. I've still got my health. Poor Sybil. I knew her Florence Nightingale act would end in tragedy."

"She's helped so many," Matthew pointed out quietly to his wife. "It's not an act of rebellion anymore I don't think. It's become her calling in life."

Mary shivered. "I hate feeling this helpless."

Edith slumped against her husband's shoulder. Strallan said, "My dear I think we should take our leave now to Strallan Hall." They had planned no honeymoon given the circumstances of limited travel options.

"Yes." Edith's happiness now tinged with sorrow. "That seems our lot in life anymore. Tears of joy turn to tears of pain. Even with the end to this wretched war the dying continues."

With one last set of embraces and wishes of good luck the newly married couple departed in Strallan's open top Rolls Royce.

The rest of the family retired to their rooms to change out of their wedding attire. Anna helped Mary out of her gown.

"You worked some miracles there, Anna," Mary admired. "You took out just enough stitches to make it comfortable to wear."

Anna smiled and carefully hung the dress in the wardrobe.

"I'm going to beg off dinner," she informed Anna. "I'm too tired. I doubt Mama will eat anything as well."

"You should have something on a tray," Matthew pointed out. "At least some soup."

Mary started to say no, but knew she had to keep her strength up for the baby. "Very well."

Anna left with those instructions.

Mary's back ached and she wanted nothing more than a bath and a quiet evening in their room with Matthew. He had promised to read the first chapters of _Indian Summer of a Forsyte_ while she rested in bed.

He kissed his wife and went into his own dressing room to change.

They had gotten into a recent habit of each night Matthew reading before she fell asleep. Mary tried not to fret that he held the book ever closer to his eyes.

As they lay in bed, he began, "'In the last day of May in the early 'nineties, about six o'clock of the evening, old Jolyon Forsyte sat under the oak tree below the terrace of his house at Robin Hill…'"

May knew listening to the silky tone of his voice would ease her troubled mind. There was nothing she could do for Sybil that wasn't already being seen to by the staff at the hospital.

It didn't make it the worry go away, however.

XX

The news didn't get any better the weeks that followed. Christmas was a quiet affair and by New Year's day 1919 Sybil was still in the throes of the flu and Cora was on the edge of despair.

Dr. Clarkson had been around to explain that a prolonged bout did not necessarily mean the worst and it could also mean she was fighting it and would come out the other side.

After he left Mary returned to the drawing room. She turned around when James Kent entered to inform her there was a telephone call from Lady Strallan asking for Lord Grantham. Her father and mother were out on a walk so she took the call.

"Edith?"

There was a charged pause and then Edith finally answered, "Mary. It's Anthony. I think he's got this flu. He's not gotten out of bed and is running a tremendous fever. I… I've called for the local doctor but he's writhing in pain and I don't know what to do for him…"

Mary felt the last of her strength give out and she slumped into a nearby chair.

XX

 _That wretched pandemic plays out at Downton in the next chapter… I love every reader, reviewer of this story. Thank you._


	22. Chapter 22

XX

Mary rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward, putting her face in her hands. Just then her husband walked in from his dressing room and approached his wife. Matthew's brow furrowed into deep chasms of worry. "Are you sure you can do this? We'll be sitting on uncomfortable pews and then standing for a time by the …" He hesitated briefly and then collected himself. "By the gravesite."

He had stood by far too many graves recently. The war had ended but the dying continued.

She looked up at Matthew through the reflection of the mirror and slid her hand into his. "Edith needs me. We've never exactly ever seen eye to eye but I can't abandon her now."

Matthew bent down to brush his lips against her forehead. "She won't think that." He was very sad over Anthony's demise. He had been the only member of the family to understand. About the war. About being a burden.

"I wasn't able to go to Strallan Hall to see her when she needed family. Anthony died and she was alone." Mary carefully rolled the black lace veil from the brim of her hat down over her face. "We have to be there for her."

"Edith understood you couldn't put yourself and the baby in danger. She'd not want you to do that." He kissed her. "And neither would I."

"To be widowed within weeks of your marriage. It's so beastly unfair. Edith always has had the wrong end of the stick."

Matthew's hand squeezed his wife's shoulder. "She's still young. I'm sure she'll find her happiness."

He noticed she winced slightly and rubbed her abdomen. "Another practice contraction?" That was how Dr. Clarkson explained the sporadic uterine contractions known as Braxton Hicks to a very concerned Matthew that his wife was going into preterm labour.

"Yes. Still quite irregular. I still have over a week to go at least." Mary reached up and patted his hand. "I'll be fine."

Matthew knew she hated when he fussed. "Let's go downstairs then. They're probably waiting by the car."

"Has Papa asked why you've not wanted to drive anymore?"

Matthew looked back at her through the mirror. "He's been preoccupied. I don't think he's even noticed." He gave a heavy sigh and unconsciously began to rub his eyes trying to focus.

Mary knew he didn't want to talk about it. "There's still time."

His face turned ashen. "Not nearly enough," he responded bitterly. But he pulled himself together enough to reach his hand out to his wife to help her up. "Shall we go?"

Mary leaned into her husband and eased up. They made their way towards the bedroom door, Matthew fumbling slightly as he misjudged the door handle. Mary opened the door and they walked out and down the hallway together. Mary wrapped her arm inside Matthew's as a gesture of trust.

He instead seemed to shrink away and into himself, far away to place Mary feared she could never reach.

XX

"He's left the entirety of Strallan Hall to me according to Mr. Burton." Edith said, finally sitting down after greeting all the mourners at the reception following the burying of her husband at the family plot of St. Alban's church.

Matthew grunted approval. He being the heir to an estate solely because of a complicated legal entail found satisfaction in the straightforwardness of Strallan's will. He was the owner of his estate, smaller than Downton, but still considerable and as such he had complete control over whom he could name as beneficiaries. Edith would be her own woman and no longer dependent upon her family.

He joined his wife on the settee opposite Edith. The rest were seated close by as well. Dr. Clarkson warned against so many family members joined together as the crisis was not over and the flu was at its most virulent in close quarters but eventually he agreed that they could gather as long as no one present showed any signs of illness.

Sybil, herself still weak from the prolonged bout of flu but recovered enough to convalesce at home, reached out to Edith. "I wish I had known him better."

"He was kind and funny." Edith ruefully shook her head. "He was so concerned about becoming a burden to me. I tried to tell him that every hour we were together was a delight. I hardly know how to go on…" She buried her face in her hands and started to weep softly.

Mary knew Granny Violet would normally tell her granddaughter that it wasn't done to show such emotion in public. But even she was moved by Edith's despair and left her alone.

Cora spoke with Strallan's younger brother who had the living as rector of St. Alban's while Robert desultorily nibbled on one of the appetizers being circulated by a young member of staff.

"You will return to Downton with us for a few days surely?" Mary asked her sister.

"I feel I should get on with things here. He'd want that. So much to be done and it's up to me now."

Was she putting on an act of bearing up Matthew wondered? "How's the estate manager? Is he reliable?"

Robert shot a glare at Matthew, knowing that was a not so subtle dig at Jarvis in whom Matthew had grave doubts. They had words over the potential the man was mismanaging the estate when Matthew pointed out that even with the higher taxes Downton should still be able to be maintained if efficiently run.

"Anthony seemed to think so. They would huddle around a table and talk about all the changes they were to make. I'll have to speak with him soon."

Cora sat down beside Edith and gave her a hug. "I'll stay with you. You shouldn't be alone."

"But what about Mary? She's due any day."

"Nurse Todd's settled in and ready to take up her duties," Mary informed.

"And now Sybil is here to see after her. And besides I'm only a few miles away." Cora patted her daughter's hand. "Let me stay."

Edith nodded, her face showing the strain of her grieving. "I'd like that very much."

"We should get Mary back home." Matthew said, noticing his wife trying to hide her discomfort behind a show of concern.

"Hodgkins is bringing the car around the front." Robert declared. He made a move towards Edith to give her a supportive embrace.

She walked with the family outside. Giving Mary and Sybil one last hug each Edith stood back.

"Call if there's anything we can do." Matthew turned to Edith before helping Mary into the Rolls Royce.

"Thank you, Matthew."

She waved as the car engine started and the car moved down the gravel drive and then returned to the house.

The rest of the family made their way back to Downton. When Hodgkins pulled in front of the house Carson opened the side door of the car and the family alighted and walked inside.

Mary stumbled a bit and Matthew reached out to catch her. "I'm fine. Just tired."

"I'll see to her." Sybil said as they reached the bottom staircase.

Mary retired upstairs to rest. Matthew started to follow as he felt the onset of a headache but Robert asked that he join him in the small library.

Rubbing his brow, Matthew reluctantly followed.

"You wanted to see me Robert?"

"You're out of the army now correct?"

Matthew nodded. "I received my decommission papers last week."

"It's about time that you made some plans for the future then. I won't interfere with your business ideas regarding this charitable endeavor…" he waved a hand as if to dismiss Matthew's proposals for the trust as a whim, "but I do think that we should discuss the potential for you to invest in Downton's future. Put your grand talk into action."

Was he trying to goad him to use some of Swire's money to fix his own mistakes? Matthew's head pounded as he considered his answer. It wasn't the first time Robert had hinted at this.

"I'd have to do more study of the estate accounts…" he started only to have Robert bristle.

"That's practically an accusation."

His son in law sighed, "No it's not. It's simply good sense."

Robert groaned. "We should bring Jarvis into this discussion."

Matthew was about to respond heatedly when they both were startled by racing footsteps in the hallway. Sybil breathlessly entered, "It's starting Matthew."

Matthew jumped up. "Good God. Isn't it too soon?"

Sybil reassured, "She's only a few days from her due date. It's perfectly fine. The activity of the morning might have brought it on. Who knows?"

His sister in law was remarkably calm. Her training must have kicked in, Matthew thought. He was glad she was here. He knew from Mary that Sybil had only reluctantly agreed to return to Downton to recuperate. She had wanted to immediately follow Tom back to Ireland but she knew she needed rest. Tom had been discharged from his ambulance duties and knowing he didn't have much future in England returned to his family's home in Dublin to try to find work.

"Papa will you telephone Dr. Clarkson? I've attended a few births in training but I would like his presence. Especially as we cannot move her to the hospital."

"Yes, yes." Robert went in search of Carson to direct the exchange to the village hospital.

Matthew followed Sybil out of the library. His disorientation was such that his pacing was slower and she had already made up the second set of stairs by the time he made it to the first landing.

"Go," he said waving Sybil ahead. "I'll be right behind."

Sybil paused long enough to see Matthew stop, lean against a pillar and rub his eyes. She felt a surge of pity as it hit her what was happening to him, but she did as he asked and continued to walk down the hall to Mary's room.

Anna and a couple of younger housemaids were bustling around the room, trying to make the room ready. Mary lay on the bed, each hand grasping desperately at the coverlets as the contractions came hard and fast. Her breathing was shallow.

"Mary," her sister sat down on the bed. "Dr. Clarkson is on his way. You have to take slow, deep breaths. Inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth. Let all the air out and try to relax…"

"Easy for you to say…" Mary managed even as she tried to follow Sybil's instructions.

Matthew opened the door and walked inside. "Mary?"

His wife turned towards his voice. "I…"

"Don't speak. Just listen to Sybil." He made his way over to the bed. He cupped her cheek with his hand. It was burning hot.

"Is… Is…" He turned a panicked face to Sybil. "Is …"

She answered his unasked question. "She's fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. But you're rather underfoot, Matthew. Especially when the doctor gets here and things progress. Why don't you go back down stairs."

"No…" He didn't want to leave Mary. "Let me stay. I will sit over on the window seat and won't interfere." He willed her to agree with his decision. "I need to be here. I need to…" His throat tightened and he could barely speak. He prised the words out. "I need to see my child as soon as possible."

The darkness was coming. He knew it.

His anguished admission tore at Sybil's heart. "Go sit and I will tell you when you can see her."

"Thank you."

Matthew reached down and kissed Mary's cheek. "I love you."

She tried to smile but another contraction forced out an involuntary moan instead. Sybil motioned Matthew, and he retreated to the corner of the window seat. He could make out a series of images of people rushing about the room but mostly made sense of it all through the flow of conversation.

Dr. Clarkson was shown in by Mrs. Hughes who sized up the situation in the room and hustled out the two younger maids saying "plenty of people here. You both go downstairs and attend to other duties."

Sybil was at Mary's side, saying "It's time."

Mary, her hair sweat soaked and clinging to her skull, turned and nodded rapidly. She squeezed Sybil's hand.

"Bear down and push Lady Mary," Dr. Clarkson said soothingly, his Scottish burr becoming even more noticeable.

"Push down hard."

A series of haggard cries allowed Clarkson to know Mary was very close. He made another examination and turned to Sybil. "Lift her higher on the bed, please."

Sybil understood and motioned for Anna to get on the other side of the bed. Together they supported Mary as she tried to move up towards the headboard. She lifted her knees higher as instructed as well and began a series of shallow breaths interrupted by intermittent yelps of pain.

Mary crushed Sybil's hand as the cramps wracked her body and she pushed for all her worth. 'Please let the baby be healthy,' she thought. And then as the contractions came in quick succession indicating active childbirth the overwhelming thought was 'let me get through this!'

"Push…." Dr. Clarkson's adamant directive. But then as the baby's head became visible it was, "push gently now. Slow…"

"It's crowning…" Sybil leaned over Mary's knees to get a peek at the baby's forehead, eyes, nose, and then finally mouth and chin. "You're doing fine, Mary. Keep steady."

Dr. Clarkson returned to "push again. We need to get these shoulders out."

And as Mary's strength ebbed, the baby's torso, legs, and feet emerged. She slumped back against the sweat soaked pillows, relief flooding her body that it was over.

Clarkson gently encouraged one more push from the exhausted new mother and then clamped and cut the umbilical cord before handing the baby to the nurse for cleansing. But not before Mary had a chance to hold her firstborn against her skin and experience the thrilling and terrifying first pangs of everlasting love shoot through her body.

Anna followed the newborn over to the table where the nurse had begun to bathe and wrap the baby in a warm flannel blanket.

Sybil stayed with Mary who had started to shake from a sudden onset of chills. She pulled a blanket around her shoulders as Mary tried to sit up.

"Matthew's here," Sybil let Mary know. "Would you like me to bring him over?"

Mary blinked slowly as her need to hold her child and be with her husband overcame her fatigue. "Yes," she said trying to smile though still weak from her exertions. "I want to see him."

XX

Matthew had never experienced such a mystifying assortment of emotions. The birth process laid waste any sense of order in his mind. Discordant images flickered in his sight. The semi-darkness of the room hindering any attempt to make out anything with clarity.

He heard Mary's cries as she followed the orders to push. He wanted to rush over to comfort but knew he'd only be in the way.

Dr. Clarkson's voice sounded like the Sergeant Major in his OTC, expecting that all within earshot conform to his commands.

Shadows that must be Sybil and Anna propping Mary up in the bed. The newly hired Nurse Todd hovering bedside.

A series of long moans from Mary and then he thought he saw her collapse against the covers.

An unnerving silence followed and then the air was pierced with the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

A baby cried and announced itself into this world.

Matthew jumped up, but his legs were like jelly so he sat back down. A bustle of activity from Anna and Sybil. More people came in armed with towels and basins.

Dr. Clarkson seemed to be talking to Mary.

The infant went silent. He got nervous again.

Sybil finally walked over to him. "Would you like to see Mary?"

He tried to speak but no words came out. He nodded and with effort he got up and followed her over to the bed.

Matthew leaned down carefully, "Darling?"

Mary turned, her face still tinged red from the exertions of birth. "Have you seen him?" She smiled proudly. "He's fine and healthy."

Matthew's mouth fell open. "It's a boy…"

"Go to him. Bring him over. Say hello to your son and heir."

Matthew turned to see Anna handing him a wriggling bundle of joy.

His son.

He gazed down upon a scrunched up face, eyes tightly closed. He took the infant into his arms and felt a surge of elation when the infant opened his eyes and looked directly into Matthew's.

Blue eyes to blue eyes. Father to son.

A bonding moment that would last Matthew a lifetime.

"Hello there…" he said softly, "My dearest little chap."

Matthew turned to Mary. "I wonder if he has any idea how much joy he brings with him."

Anna brought over a chair for Matthew. They all then departed the room to give the new parents time alone.

Matthew finally tore his eyes away from his son. "How are you my darling?"

Mary sat up a little straighter.

"How are you really?" Matthew knew she was too much a daughter of her class to admit weakness. "You can tell me."

Mary's shoulders sagged. "Tired. Relieved. We've done our duty. Papa will dance a jig when he knows Downton is safe."

"I'm dancing a jig." Matthew handed him over to Mary's waiting arms. Two little hands emerged from the swaddle of blankets. She reached out with her little finger and the baby's fingers wrapped around it.

Matthew watched in awe. Captured in his mind's eye everything as the baby's touch relaxed his wife's face and all her façades of status and class fell away. The true Mary emerged.

His Mary. Their son's Mary.

"You're going to be a wonderful mother," he whispered.

Mary reached out to cup his face and wipe away a few tears that trickled out the corners of his eyes. "How do you know? I'm quite out my depths."

"Because you're a wonderful woman. Every day that passes I fall deeper in love with you."

His look pierced Mary's soul. It was stripped of all pretense.

She knew what was happening.

"Come here," she said making room on the bed for Matthew.

He rose and climbed on the bed beside his wife and child. His arm drew around her and his head rested on her shoulder.

Each was quiet as they contemplated their new family.

The baby's eyes opened and closed and his mouth puckered and began to make a sucking sound.

"I think I know what that means," Mary said drolly. "I'll need the nurse back in. Why don't you go down and see Papa."

Matthew made a move to get up.

"But not before you give me a decent kiss. I think I've earned it."

Matthew regarded her with a slow smile across his face. "You certainly have…" And their lips met in a soft kiss, Mary pulling him in for another, deeper kiss before he left her.

At the door he looked once again upon his wife and son, He gripped the door handle tightly but tore himself away. There were things he had to do before he gave into the dying of the light.

XX

He arrived in the library after a slow walk down the staircase.

Sybil walked towards him, "Is the nurse back in the room?"

Matthew nodded affirmatively, his face etched with fatigue and worry. "Did you telephone Cora?"

"As soon as I got downstairs. She said of course to give Mary and the little one all her love. Edith too."

Matthew gave a weary smile. "Go to her."

Sybil gave her brother in law a supportive hug. "You have all of us Matthew. Know that."

He smiled, a fragile, quavering smile. "Thank you."

He was left alone with Robert.

"A son," Robert glowed with pride. "You've done the family proud."

The two shook hands.

"About what we were talking about earlier. I think we should bring Jarvis in to any discussion about the estate's future."

Matthew made a move forward but stubbed his foot on a chair leg. He went tumbling to the floor.

Robert reached out a hand but Matthew didn't see it. He struggled to get himself into the chair. The room spun.

"What's the matter?" Robert asked. "Not you as well."

Matthew bit back the first retort which was now that Mary had given birth to a son, wasn't he the now superfluous heir? What did it matter if he died of flu? But he did not say that. He didn't say anything. After he regained his composure he knew he had to tell Robert. What did he have to lose? Now or never…

"No I don't have the flu." Matthew raise his head to try to talk to Robert direct. "I'm going blind again. The doctors say it's only a matter of time."

Robert stared at Matthew in disbelief. "Does Mary know?"

"Yes. It started before the Armistice. I was put on medical leave pending discharge. When I heard that Mary was at the Dower House I went there and told her."

After a hard pause Robert averted his gaze and said, "That changes everything doesn't it?" He exhaled slowly. "At least you have that inheritance as a living. And Mary's got her marriage settlement. And we've got my grandson."

Matthew could feel Robert drawing away. His tone became patronizing, as if Matthew had reverted to the status of a rather useless dependent. One he was relieved he didn't have the burden of carrying economically.

"Why don't you join Mary upstairs, then. I'll see to Jarvis myself." And with that Robert patted Matthew on his shoulder and left the room.

He had been summarily dismissed from any further responsibility in the economic affairs of Downton.

Matthew didn't really blame his father in law. Given his current debilitative state he was of no use to anyone. His childhood reading of the Just So Stories came to mind, _'I am the Cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to me_.'

He stayed a long time in the library brooding and feeling rather sorry for himself. Robert's withdrawal of support hurt more than he anticipated. He'd just been put on a shelf with the hope he'd go quietly into oblivion.

Eventually he made his way upstairs, pausing at their bedroom door to hear soft voices within.

He walked past not wanting to disturb Mary. Entering his dressing room, he heard the jagged cries of a fussy infant. He turned to listen.

Enthralled by the sound of his newborn son he hardly realized he couldn't see the door frame between his chamber and their bedroom.

He blinked in confusion. Turned to the window where the light should be fading in the early evening.

Nothing.

Did Lang not turn on the electric lights in the room?

He held out his hand towards his face.

Nothing.

His face whipped around the chamber.

There was only darkness.

His breaths came shallow, his heart raced. His hand fell upon an item on his night stand. A glass and silver bottle of some kind.

He couldn't see it at all. He picked it up, gripped it tight and hurled it across the room.

It broke in thousand pieces of shattered glass as it struck the far wall and plummeted to the hardwood floor.

The effort made Matthew stumble. To break his fall, he reached out and gripped some of the bed covers. They gave way and he dropped as a dead weight against the side of the bed.

It was all over.

The darkness had won.

He started to sob, wracking, ugly cries of helplessness. Feeling utterly sorry for himself. He didn't even care. Laying intertwined and twisted in the bedcovers his head lolled back against the mattress.

It was just so damned unfair.

XX  
 _So now we begin the journey after The Ticket ended. What comes next for Matthew? Hope you'll keep reading and join me on this journey. It frustrated me the movie ended right at this moment when coming out the other side of tragedy is an important story to tell. There is life still to be lived for what you think is the end, is really just the beginning._


	23. Chapter 23

The April sun belied the chill that coursed through Mary's body. The heat should feel good after being cooped up in the house. The bleak mid-winter had been one long blur to the new mother. Days bled into nights as she had learned to nourish her son and recover her own strength. Of course Nurse Todd and the new nursery maid Florence took care of all the details of George's care and she more recently felt quite removed from her own child's life.

She had never believed herself particularly neglected as a child seeing her parents only on average once or twice a day. And so it would be for George. Especially as life returned to some kind of normal after the war and society once again resumed a regulated schedule of events and obligations.

If there was such a thing as normal anymore.

Either in England reeling from the aftereffects of war even as it tried to forget it ever happened.

Or in her own life.

She might try to return to a pre-war mindset of living for her own selfish amusement, and occasionally she may well enjoy it, but it would be only fleeting. She knew she also craved a job well done, a well-earned success. Would she ever be as productive again as she was running Downton as a convalescent home?

Mary gave a heavy sigh. Even the coming of spring and the season of hope and renewal did little to enliven her mood.

Mary strolled in the monk's garden with her mother in law who had finally returned from her latest humanitarian trip with Herbert Hoover's Food Relief program in Belgium. Isobel had wanted to come back as soon as Matthew's cable arrived about the baby's birth but logistically it had proved impossible to get a berth on any returning boat to England. All of them had been reserved for demobbed soldiers. She had just arrived back at Crawley House and walked the short distance to Downton when she spied Mary taking a turn in the garden.

Matthew brooded upstairs, closed off from the rest of the family. He had been so since George's birth and the onset of his relapsed blindness.

"I don't know how to reach him. He's been so distant since…" She helplessly balled her fists at the sides of her body and didn't finish the sentence. Matthew's blindness had put the whole house on edge. He rarely made an appearance downstairs and when he did the servants gave him a wide berth as he tried to navigate his way around. She saw them ducking around a pillar and walking behind him rather than crossing his path. Every subject seemed a potential minefield so when Matthew did sit down for a meal with the family conversation was overly formal and noticeably short.

"His telegram did not even mention the relapse," Isobel stretched out a supportive hand. "Obviously he didn't want me rushing back and interfering."

"Just like him." Mary shrugged. "He keeps everything to himself anymore."

"I understand my dear. It's not surprising given his utter confidence the blindness would not return. When it happened the first time he would stalk around the back garden for hours on his own."

"He won't even hold George. I've tried to show him that I trust him. I feel he's afraid he might drop the baby but we're all close by." At three months George was happy, healthy, and finally sleeping through the night.

"Are you saying he's not involved in George's life? That doesn't sound like Matthew." Isobel said.

"No," Mary reflected. "When the nurse arrives for nightly feeding he'll carefully move himself out of bed to a chair he's positioned and sit quietly until the nurse leaves to put George back in his cot. When she's gone he reaches out and grips the blankets to guide himself back to bed. He always asks if I need anything and kisses my cheek and rests beside me until I fall asleep. Even in the middle of the night he will do that."

She stopped walking, giving Isobel a troubled glance. "But I feel a wall has been built between us. One I'm not sure how to breach."

Isobel had never seen her so vulnerable.

Her daughter in law swiftly managed to get her emotions under control and said more firmly, "He'll be so pleased you're back."

But Isobel had seen it. She had underestimated this woman Matthew had chosen. She had thought Mary possessed no deep emotions as a daughter of her class. That they'd have been bred out of her and she would be a good wife to her son but one that he would inevitably love her more for her son ever wore his heart on his sleeve.

"I'll go upstairs and see him." She turned to say to Mary, "You're managing all of these changes with great patience."

"No no…" Mary demurred. "It's nothing. I've got so much help."

Isobel began to walk towards the house, murmuring under her breath. "It's the very opposite of nothing I think."

XX

Anna and a couple of younger servants were in the bedroom cleaning and polishing. Matthew retreated to the deep buttoned wing backed arm chair in his dressing room.

He heard a light tap on the door. "Come in."

Anna turned the knob. Matthew's mother swept through and nodded. Anna returned to her duties.

Isobel approached her son who had already risen from the chair at the sound of her familiar commanding footsteps. "Hello Mother." He reached out his arms for an embrace. "You should have cabled your arrival. I'd have met you at the station."

Mother and son hugged. "I made my own way and Mary greeted me down in the garden." She released the hold. "She caught me up on all the news."

Matthew's mouth downturned slightly. "I see." He caught the intimation in her voice that he should have been the one to tell her of his blindness.

And she was probably right. But he wanted to put off her well-intentioned meddling.

He changed the subject. "Have you seen the baby? He's down the hall in the day nursery," just the hint of a smile crossing Matthew's lips.

"Not yet," Isobel said. "I have more immediate concerns about you…" He was looking so pallid.

Matthew knew she wouldn't be put off so easily. He cut her off, "I'm sure you do Mother but I can assure you I'm in good health. Anything more is none of your business."

His bluntness curtailed his mother not at all. "What about this Dr. MacEwen? Perhaps you should visit."

"Not now."

"Sooner the better as I see it. We can take the train to Glasgow."

Matthew groaned. He knew she meant it kindly. She always meant it kindly even as her interfering drove him mad. He gave it one more try.

"Please leave off all that for now and let's go see George," his voice pleading with her to understand.

Isobel looked at her son. His blues eyes stared unblinking in the direction he believed she stood so they could have this conversation face to face. But he couldn't really see her at all. She knew that. The blankness had returned.

She wanted desperately to help him. To bring back his eyesight. To make her son whole again. But she couldn't. She could do as he asked, however. And that she would. That is what a mother is for. To be there for her children. She straightened her shoulders and said brightly, "You said George was in the day nursery? He must be a robust young fellow by now."

Matthew suddenly beamed with parental pride. "He's quite a jolly little baby. Hardly ever fusses."

He made a move towards the door, knowing how many steps to take across the room before reaching for the door handle. He fumbled once and missed, his hand floundering about in the air before falling to his side in frustration.

Isobel started to do it for him but hastily retracted her hand hopefully before Matthew realized.

Matthew took a moment to recover his composure and tried again. He felt for the wood frame of the door this time and trailed his fingers down until he firmly gripped the handle. "Take my arm, Mother." Matthew extended his other hand. "I'll show you the way."

She looped arms with her son and two of them made their way down the hall. Their familiarity with leaning on each other returning.

Isobel was happy he allowed her to help.

She was thrilled he had a bundle of joy to show off.

XX

"He's refuses to see reason. Just sits upstairs and politely says he wants to be on his own." Mary shook her head in utter vexation. "Anyone else I'd call it sulking and tell them to just get on with things."

"But because he's blind you're leaving off? Isn't that just what he doesn't want?" Edith pointed out. "To be treated with kid gloves?"

Mary threw her sister a dark look and wanted to snap her head off with a brusque retort. How dare she tell her how to treat her own husband!

She stopped herself in time. She was supposed to be better than that now. And Edith was still in the depths of her own mourning. And worst of all Edith was right. She was afraid. Matthew had rebuffed all attempts to join the family downstairs. The christening was coming up at the village church and she was actually worried he would not attend. Did he not want to be seen in public with his cane? Isobel had retrieved it from the attic at Crawley House and brought it over the day following her return.

Matthew thanked her but had shoved it in a corner of their bedroom and hadn't touched it since.

She knew better than to ask. He would mumble a vague excuse and change the subject. His silence was worse. He'd spend hours on his own in that leather armchair in his dressing room gazing out of the window.

"I've wanted to give him time to adjust," Mary replied finally. "For us all to adjust however he has to start interacting with the family. Papa and Matthew had words and they're at odds again. Every time I bring up the idea of him getting involved Matthew just pinches his face disagreeably and says 'what do I know about running estates?'"

"Does he seem depressed? Maybe he should see a doctor?"

Mary shook her head. "Isobel has tried that. He refused. And no he doesn't seem particularly melancholy. Just quiet. He'll laugh and coo with the baby in the nursery. He still won't hold him though."

"Give him more time. It's difficult to move on…" Edith bit back some tears.

Mary's heart relented as she was reminded yet again of the rawness of her sister's grief. She held out a supportive hand. "Do you need anything? Mama wanted to accompany me but got called away to the Dower House at the last minute."

"Is Granny all right?" Edith blanched. The last thing the family needed was more bad news.

"Yes. She wanted Mama's input on the choice of a new butler." Mary had to chuckle. "'So inconvenient that Harris retired to Brighton. Why would he want to go there? No one there of any consequence.'"

Her spot on imitation of their grandmother's distaste at that tourist watering hole made Edith laugh.

Mary added, "Granny is quite put out by the whole thing. But she is right that these days it is quite impossible to find quality servants. Women want to continue the jobs they had in the war. Returning soldiers forcing them to give them up. The girls we see nowadays are sullen and lazy."

"What about Florence? I thought you liked her?" Edith reminded Mary about her newly hired nursery maid.

"True. She follows Nurse Todd's orders and keeps a tidy nursery. She wants to be a nanny eventually. I'm not sure we should let her go before giving her a chance when Nurse Todd leaves. But she is quite young."

Mary took a sip of tea and she suddenly pulled a long face saying more snappishly, "We'll have to see about her."

"What is it?" Edith knew when her sister's nose was put out of joint.

Mary waved a hand in front of her face, almost in chagrin at being caught out. "She's the only one who seems to cheer Matthew up. I'll find him in the nursery at the oddest hour laughing as Florence plays with George while Nurse has a rest. She's not really supposed to hold the baby at all but he won't listen to me."

"Oh really Mary you aren't jealous? He worships the ground you walk on."

Mary shrugged her shoulders. "Of course not," dismissing her sister's allegation but knowing full well it was close to the truth. She wasn't concerned Matthew's interests wandered towards the nursery maid, but rather more that she was covetous of the desire to make her husband laugh herself.

A change of subject was needed. "Another question is what to do about Sybil. She's cabled she's arrived in Dublin and that Branson's mother is a charming and accommodating woman. The wedding will be three weeks from now if we want to attend."

"If?" Edith said, "Of course I'm going. She needs family. Papa is still refusing I suppose? And Mama must support him."

"He's not budged. Refused her even any marriage settlement," Mary confirmed. "But there was no stopping Sybil. She was off as soon as she was fully recovered. She did say she'd return for the christening. You and her being George's godmothers."

"How will she afford the passage back with Papa being so stubborn?"

"Matthew's said he would pay out of his own money but I told him we'd both contribute."

"She can stay here if it will be calmer waters for her." Edith looked around. "Heaven knows I have the room. And I wouldn't say no to the company."

"I'm about to write to her so I'll tell her of your invitation."

Mary rose from the settee. Edith followed her out into the foyer of Strallan Hall. They embraced.

"Everything will get better with time I keep being told," Edith said. "So I hope it is with you as well."

Mary gave a grateful smile and left by the front door. Hodgkins had driven Cora to the Dower House so she drove herself in the Vauxhall. She slipped in behind the wheel and turned the starter. Matthew was probably expecting her to join him in the nursery for when George woke up from his afternoon nap so she made good time back to Downton.

She pulled the car in front of the house. Hodgkins would move it to the garage when he returned. Mary walked inside and told Mrs. Hughes she'd go upstairs to take off her hat and see Matthew and George.

"He's out m'lady."

"What?" Mary's face creased in consternation. "He never told me he was going out? Actually out?" Repeating it because it was so incredulous. Matthew had not left the house in over three months.

"He asked Lang to pack an overnight case about two hours ago m'lady and set off for Crawley House I believe." Mrs. Hughes was quite surprised by Matthew's appearance downstairs but took it all in stride.

Mary rushed upstairs. It was all so mysterious. In their bedroom she glanced in the corner and the cane was missing. She went into his dressing room to find Lang putting some clothes in the wardrobe.

"Lang, did Mr. Crawley give any indication of his destination?"

"A letter came for him earlier from a postmark in Amersham in Buckinghamshire. He took it without opening and shoved it in his pocket. But few minutes later he got up and asked for his walking cane and that I pack an overnight case. He went downstairs after collecting the bag and consulted Carson about train schedules."

"How extraordinary." Mary uttered under her breath. "Amersham? Who on earth does he know there?"

Lang, trying not stutter in front of her ladyship, paused before saying very slowly, "he left a note for you." Another pause. "On… on the bedside table."

Mary's head whipped around to the inside of their bedroom. And on his side of the bed was a folded piece of paper.

She strode over and opened the flap _. "Darling I know this is last minute but I've gone to visit Sam Lewis. Will call you…"_ Mary couldn't read the rest as the last words slipped off the page as Matthew could not see what he was writing and some of the words crammed on top of each other.

The script sloped to the right across the page as he rushed to finish it. _"Love Matthew"_ was written on the left side below the note.

Sam Lewis? Mary wracked her brains to remember the name. Oh yes it was his friend from Cambridge who'd gone blind in the war. Why would rush off without waiting for her to return? Didn't he know she'd worry? How would he find his way around? He should have taken Lang with him. What if something happened?

Mary briskly folded the note and tapped the edge on the table. It really was most thoughtless of him.

XX

Matthew threw himself onto the seat in the first-class train compartment after getting some help from the porter in placing two cases in the overhead. He had collected two Hammond Braille typewriters from the attic at Crawley House where they had been stored since his mother moved from Manchester. He had used one at Cambridge to write up drafts of essays and research papers and the other he used when home in Manchester. He asked Molesley to help him bring down them both down stairs. He had one with him on the train and the other was sent to Downton.

Upon receiving Sam's letter it suddenly occurred to Matthew he had not told his friend of his own relapse. A combination of the flu putting a halt to much travel over the past few months, events at Downton, especially the birth of George and Strallan's death, and his own bouts of melancholy had meant he really hadn't told anyone. Joseph was in France with his father who was a diplomat at the Paris Peace talks and they had been out of contact.

Unable to read the letter, and unwilling to have Lang read it to him, he had shoved it in his pocket for later. Lewis's family was well off and probably someone had written the letter for Sam. They had not left things on a good note between them when last they met at St. Dunstan's after Sam's gas wounds ended in his blindness.

He had meant to contact him but it never happened. So this letter was quite out of the blue.

Matthew decided he'd rather meet his friend face to face to settle their differences. Sam resented the turned tables of Matthew being sighted while he had gone blind. Understandable under the circumstances, but very ironic in hindsight. It occurred to Matthew that Sam would be one of the very few people who would now relate entirely to his own situation. They had both been sighted and now both were blinded. They knew both worlds.

Perhaps he could help Sam. At least wanted to try. He remembered the typewriter and realized if they each had one they could stay in touch.

He left Mary a quick note and made his way to Crawley House to get Molesley's help him in the attic. The walk across the drive and gravel path to the shortcut he had taken quite frequently but it took him a bit longer as he was slowed down by having to use his cane to judge distances and obstacles in his way. He gripped the sterling silver tip in a determined fashion and finished it good time. His mother was out at the village hospital so he could get what he wanted and be on his way. He had telephoned ahead to Fenton Manor informing Mrs. Lewis of his desire to visit Sam. Fiona Lewis, ever a bit claustrophobically doting on Matthew when he visited as a young man, was surprised to hear from him but welcomed the visit readily.

Now on the train he reflected that he had not meant for so much time to pass before he ventured out into the world once more. The comfort of Downton had seeped into his bones since the relapse. It had allowed him to quiet the anger inside him. He knew Mary didn't quite understand why he withdrew from the family. He just wasn't ready to deal with it all. Back to always being the one to not take offence at other's lack of feeling or consideration. To take the high road when treated like a child.

To swallow his pride and ask for help.

To accept not being able to see George. His little hands and perfectly formed fingers. His fat toes. He loved his son to bits. But the infant was also at the core of his most entrenched fear.

Nor see Mary. He closed his mind's eye and saw her in all her beauty. Alabaster skin. Curled ringlets cascading down her shoulders. Shining brown eyes that had looked upon him with more love than he ever expected to receive in his lifetime.

Matthew bit back tears. He knew he wasn't alone in the first-class car with the low murmur of conversation in the opposite corner.

How could he live never seeing her again?

The train pulled into the station at Amersham and again with some help he got the cases down and stepped out of the compartment.

A car had been sent from the manor to pick him up. The Lewis family had made their money in the City of London in banking and the current head of Lewis, Chase and Brackett had also, according to rumours Matthew heard, did rather well out of the recent war. That rankled Matthew but it had nothing to do with Sam who had served with distinction at the Somme and Passchendaele before the gas got him.

Matthew exited the train and put on the pair of dark glasses as an indicator of his condition. Another concession to practicality.

He heard his named called by the chauffeur and replied, "Yes. Thank you for helping with the cases."

"I'll just put them in the back."

The chauffeur opened the back door to the Rolls. Matthew heard the slight creaking sound and held out his hand to feel the cool metal of the door frame. Using his cane he reached up and got inside and onto the leather seat.

The ride was just a few miles and very soon Matthew heard the gravel of the drive beneath the car's wheels.

The door opened and gingerly he stepped down. It was always a bit of a trick to make it look easy to get out of a car. Judge the distance down incorrectly would mean a tumble or stumble and end up on his backside. He maneuvered it successfully and was met by the butler who greeted him welcome to Fenton Manor and that Mrs. Lewis was inside waiting him.

The butler walked in front and Matthew followed, feeling a concrete step up before he walked through the front door and into the interior of the house.

He took his bowler hat and gloves off, holding them out expecting the butler to take them which he did. He turned at the sound of his name.

"Matthew," the affected voice of Fiona Lewis called out. It was just the same. She always sounded to Matthew like a tea kettle on the boil. High pitched soprano voice, always slightly out of breath and so plummy it bordered on artifice.

"Mrs. Lewis," Matthew said graciously, not giving away any of his private thoughts. He held out his hand and she clasped it daintily and kissed his cheek.

He took off his dark spectacles.

"What's this? I thought Sammy said you could see? Don't tell me you've lost your eyes again? That's so tragic. Your mother must be bereft. Are you back in Manchester with her now? It's a comfort you have a home to go to unlike some of these poor, poor men from the war who we've heard are on the streets selling pencils. One tries to do what one can but charity begins at home and we must take care of Sammy."

Matthew kept a tight smile screwed on to his face to hide his disdain. Poor Sam, having such a well meaning but cloying mother must drive him barking. He made a note to himself to always be grateful for his own practical and loving mother.

"I'm living at Downton Abbey actually. My wife is Lady Mary Crawley. We've recently been blessed with a little boy, George Matthew Crawley." He did rather enjoy enlightening Fiona Lewis about his new circumstances in life.

Mrs. Lewis had turned to lead him to the drawing room but stopped in her tracks at his response. At first perplexed she recovered quickly. She hated being caught out on forgetting societal gossip. "Oh of course. I read in _The Sketch_ last year about your engagement. I remember asking Horace if that was the same dear boy who used to summer here with our Sammy. He said that indeed it was and that your fortunes had quite changed. You are now the heir to that great estate."

Matthew nodded happily. "That is so."

"I do wish you had been able to spend time with our younger daughter Sophia. She was away at school on the continent sadly…" Mrs. Lewis trailed off.

Matthew suppressed a chortle of laughter. When he visited Fenton Manor Sophia Lewis was kept well and truly out of Matthew's way deliberately according to Sam because his mother was concerned his agreeably attractive but most decidedly blind friend would turn the head of her impressionable daughter.

Mrs. Lewis did lean in conspiratorially towards Matthew and whisper, "of course we are to have our own news very soon. It's not common knowledge but my husband expects to be on the king's New Year's Honours list."

For services' no doubt to king and country, Matthew muttered to himself. And to line his own pockets at the expense of the ordinary British Tommy who was used for cannon fodder for four endless years.

He gritted his teeth and followed Mrs. Lewis to the drawing room. This visit was going to do more than just mend fences with Sam, Matthew realized. It was stoking the fire of getting this Swire Trust underway and for the benefit all those now forgotten by so called better men.

XX

Sam's mother finally left the two of them alone after fussing about. "If you need anything ring for the nurse. The bell is right here on the table."

Matthew was not surprised the Lewis's still employed a private nursing attendant for Sam given his mother's pampering and the family's wealth.

"Matthew," Sam sat near the large casement window in the drawing room. "Thank you for coming. I felt rotten about how I left things at St. Dunstan's. I was feeling right sorry for myself and I took it out on you."

"I understand. We all go through it."

"And now you're back among us. That's damned unfair."

Matthew had to smile. "My thoughts exactly. But there you are. My mother is on for me to see this specialist in Glasgow but there's really nothing to be done. The placement of the tumour is such that it's quite inoperable."

"He might give some hope about a release of pressure like before? So you could once again see."

"For how long? I'm not sure I could continue with that kind of peek a boo. Now you see. Now you don't. Might be better to just stay as it is. Especially as it could also indicate growth with much more dire consequences."

Matthew shifted in his chair. There was something he wanted to ask Dr. MacEwen if given the chance. But it didn't involve himself.

He shifted the focus of the conversation. "How are you?"

"I am as I am. A prisoner in a gilded cage. Mater means well but well you know her…" He sighed. "I was supposed to take my place at the bank when the war ended, but now that's never going to happen and Pater acts as if I don't even exist. It's almost as if he wished I was at the very least among the honoured dead. That way he could be proud but not have deal with the embarrassment of a useless son."

The bitterness apparent in his friend's voice, Matthew sympathized. "Your father was always the authoritarian. He needs to be shown that blindness is not as much of a hindrance as he thinks. You've got your health, right?"

"I have a cough from the lingering of the gas. But not bad considering. Now that I've regained my strength I feel like I want to be of some service to him. But I'm not sure how. I remember you getting on with things at Cambridge. I always thought it remarkable how you never let your blindness get in the way."

Matthew realized he had to remember that old self now. He had been wallowing far too long. His own father in law needed to be proven the very same thing.

"And now you're married with a little boy. Must be a real joy. Are you returning to Cambridge to finish the M.A.?"

"No. When I was still blind I had a job offer from the Master at Caius for Tutor but I turned him down." Matthew remembered that day with Lavinia. Had that been only two and half years ago? Seemed like a lifetime. "When my sight returned I had the idea of taking the solicitor's licencing exam but right now that's on hold. I have been the recipient of an unexpected legacy, however…" He paused again and sighed but continued, "I've started working with St. Dunstan's on creating a workshop for blinded soldiers at Downton. Give them employable skills and a living wage."

He heard Sam's chair creak. "I say that sounds like a marvelous idea. They work miracles there."

"I hope it will be useful."

Sam clapped his hands together. "I think we should have a drink to congratulate you on the birth of you son. Why don't we take ourselves down to the pub like we used to and when we get back you can show me how to use that blasted typewriter I heard hauled onto the desk in the corner."

Matthew grinned in memory of sneaking out through the garden gate and down the path to the local Red Lion when they were supposed to be studying. Sam's mother had a fit when they had returned slightly worse for wear. "Deal. Though it tis a bit blind leading the blind. I think I remember the way."

"Let's go before the mater hears." Sam got up and felt for the door handle leading down into the topiary garden at the back of Fenton Manor. "She'll have a fit but I've not been out for ages. "

Matthew followed behind his friend, glad he had at least managed to cheer him up for a bit. When they got back he'd telephone Mary and tell her to expect him on the morning train back to Downton Village.

XX

Mary rubbed George's brow gently with two fingers. He was asleep in her arms while she sat in the window seat in the day nursery.

She spoke quietly to Matthew who sat nearby. "I'm not angry but you really shouldn't be so thoughtless as to go on a lark. What if something happened? Why didn't you wait until I got back?"

Matthew rubbed his brow. He had a lingering headache. Not one associated with his neurological issues but rather it had been a long time since he had drunk so much ale. He still felt a bit fuzzy headed. But it had been fun regaling Sam with stories of the family. He told him of the wedding and his hopes to take Mary on a proper honeymoon to France very soon.

They really did need to get away alone.

"Darling I understand your concern. But I was fine. I left a note…"

"Gone to see a friend? Didn't say much."

"And I believe I added I love you," Matthew said with a grin.

Mary had to smile at his cheekiness. "Yes you did say that."

"You would have tried to stop me. Tell me to see reason and that I could have planned a trip for the next week."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Matthew reached out his hand to feel for her. His hand rested on her knee. "But if I was sighted this wouldn't even have been an issue. I need to be able to come and go as I please. If this is to work I need your trust and belief in me that I would never do anything that would put myself at risk. I am capable of traveling alone and getting there and back again in one piece."

Mary closed her eyes and held her baby close to her cheek. "I can't guarantee I won't worry about you. But I won't stand in your way. Just as long as we always keep in touch."

"Thank you darling." He knew that was a hard concession from his wife. He saw in Sam's mother the need to control and keep a rein on her son. To keep him close meant to keep him safe. But it could also strangle and confine.

"Would you like to hold George?"

Mary saw him sit up straighter in the chair. His mouth opened but nothing came out. He licked his lips and then pursed them together. But he didn't hold out his hands.

"What's the matter? Are you afraid of dropping him? I'm right here."

Matthew swallowed hard. "No…It's … It's that I wish you didn't have to worry about that. I feel I let you believe I'd not lose my sight again and I would be able to support you as any able-bodied husband. I've let you down. Now you must spend your life worrying about whether I'm capable of parenting my own son."

Mary stood up and walked over to Matthew's chair. She bent down and said, "hold out your hands."

Matthew did so.

She gently placed George into his father's arms. "There. Will that convince you." She kissed his cheek softly.

George squiggled a bit and then nestled down against Matthew' chest. He could feel the child's warmth. Matthew's heart threatened to burst out of his chest it was beating so hard with love.

At first nervously sitting upright in the chair, Matthew eventually sank back against the cushion, adjusting George so he had a firm hold of the child.

Mary sat on the arm of the chair resting her head against her husband's.

Matthew turned so that he could feel Mary's breath upon his cheek. "You can convince me again…"

She grinned and their lips met in a much longer kiss.

XX

 _Lots of issues still to work out. Hope you're happy along this journey. All reviews are happiness!_

 _Thanks_


	24. Chapter 24

"Have you finalized the type of factory or facility you have in mind?" In command of the aftercare department at St. Dunstan's Ian Fraser sat behind his desk and jotted notes down on a notepad that had a metal frame with rows across to allow him to write neatly in straight lines. It was a quick way to write his thoughts down and have his secretary type it up later on the Braille typewriter to be used in subsequent meetings.

Matthew heard the scratching of the pen and mentally put on his list the purchase of a number of metal framed writing tablets to be used at the Swire Trust at Downton.

"So much to consider," Matthew said. "It's a bit overwhelming."

"We've had the same growing pains here. When Sir Arthur started the charity in 1915 he had no idea of the scale we would have to deal with as the war continued. We've discovered that evolving in response to the needs of the men and their families works best for us. To be flexible rather than rigid in our organizational strategy. We try to live by his motto, 'Appalling as the deprivation of sight may be, it is not without some remarkable compensations.'"

Matthew knew the truth of that. In the months that followed the return of his blindness he had run the gamut of emotions from despair to acceptance. And in that acceptance, he remembered how his blindness made him a better man. Gave him a strength of character and a self-reliance that belied his age and allowed him to push his way past even his own resentments and frustrations and to just get on with things.

He knew Ian Fraser was the same. At 19 he was blinded on the Somme. At 22 he's the day to day head of a major rehabilitative facility. It just showed him that anything could be done. He didn't really see himself as the administrator of the Swire. He would be the trustor and work closely with whomever he chose as director. But Fraser was proof he didn't have to limit himself to a sighted individual as long as the one chosen was administratively sound. There would have to be a sighted office manager who would act as intermediary between the outside world and the Trust. Teachers and assistants would also have to be hired. A small nursing staff as well to tend to health needs. Maybe they could work in conjunction with Downton Village hospital.

Matthew though was eager to get started. "I'm still working on what would fit in best in Yorkshire. Farming and animal husbandry would seem appropriate. But office skills would allow for those less inclined to work in agriculture to find work in factories and companies in York and some of the other bigger cities in the north of England."

"We've had some pushback from Scottish charities and hospitals wanting their local men to stay local even when we have the larger facilities and is specifically designed to meet their needs and happiness."

"I don't want to appear like I'm pushing in…" Matthew furrowed his brow. He hadn't even considered the issue of some kind of territorial dispute.

Fraser reassured Matthew. "No No. Your operation is quite different. We see it as more of an extension of our own set up. We will be more than eager to send some St. Dunstaner's up to you as well that you recruit from the north."

"I'll do my best." Matthew truly felt the weight of the work he was to commence.

"Chips can tour you around the classrooms where we've got the different trades going. You'll see the touch typing on the Remington's as well as the Braille machines. We also teach how to work a telephone operator's board."

"I'd love to." Matthew knew that Ian Fraser and the former Irene Mace had married last year as well. Fraser's nickname for his wife, Chips, indicated a level of loving intimacy that paralleled his own with Mary. Though he chuckled to himself that he doubted he could ever get away with creating a nickname for her.

"The model farm is out back on land donated by Regents Park but compared to what you could provide at Downton it's quite small. It would truly be an asset teaching self-sufficiency in creating small home gardens and to learning how to handle cutting trees and clearing land."

"I think at the outset we should settle on those two areas. We could also provide recreation such as rowing on the rivers or fencing."

"You keen to take it up again? I know Joseph missed you as a sparring partner."

Matthew had to admit that he was looking forward to taking up the foil again.

Fraser added, "Joseph is now on to cricket you know. That is something he picked up from some Australian soldiers in France. They used to fill a tin can with rocks but now it's just a large ball with ball bearings inside."

Matthew couldn't believe it. At school he always felt left out on sports days on the cricket pitch. That would lift the spirits he thought.

"He arrives back from Paris this afternoon. We're to have lunch at the Savoy Grille with my wife Mary and Sam Lewis. Would you and Irene care to join us?"

"I wish we could but we're off to Liverpool to visit some of the hospitals. They have wards of blinded soldiers that we could help down here."

The two men rose. Fraser walked around the desk. Two blind people shaking hands was always a bit tricky. Neither can see the other's hand hovering out in space. Fraser made sure to touch Matthew's arm and Matthew knew where the other man's hand was located.

"I was sorry to hear of your relapse but glad to know you're going ahead with the Trust. It's all needed. There's so many men we have to turn down due to lack of space."

"I want to help." Matthew said firmly. "My solicitor is drawing up the last of the legal documents and when that's done we can get the builders in to the cottages on the estate." Robert, despite their differences regarding the administration of Downton's tenants, had promised to let several cottages and the adjoining land to the Trust on a 99 year lease. Matthew was grateful and it went a ways to thaw the estrangement between the two men.

They shook hands and bade each other good-bye. Matthew walked the few steps to the door, felt it with his cane, and reached for the handle. On the other side was Irene Fraser waiting to take him on a tour of the hostel. Things had changed in peacetime where there were far fewer soldiers recovering from wounds and more space given over to teaching trades and skills.

Matthew felt Irene touch his wrist to allow him to take her arm to guide him through to the Annex buildings where the classrooms were located.

"We'll start with the telephone room. Would you like to give it a go?"

"Absolutely."

They entered room where an instructor stood next to a mock up of a telephone board.

"Mark here is seated with a head set on," Irene explained. "Random shutters drop down on the board and he'll hear it and discover which one by touch and place the electric cord in the proper exchange."

Matthew listened for several minutes as student and instructor worked the board.

"Some of the shutters have particular sounds," he noticed. "You can hear the difference."

Mark, the blinded soldier working the board agreed. "Yes. Though it's supposed that they all sound alike after a while you can tell which part of the board the doll's eye drops. Makes it easier to work the board once you get a handle on that."

"I'll let you get on," Matthew said. "Thank you for letting me listen in."

Irene led him into several of the other buildings teaching basket weaving to typewriting and then finally the Braille classroom where as Irene explained, "lessons are short and tailored to meet each pupil's needs. Some pick it up quite easily. Others don't have the touch when they arrive and get very frustrated."

"I remember that I angered my tutor by pointing out he was sighted and it wasn't really fair he got after me for not picking it up more quickly as he could see the bloody dots." Matthew chuckled. "My mother was not pleased when the tutor quit that same day. But she did find me another one, blinded this time. And we got on much better."

"We also have exercise and entertainments as you well know. Joseph and his fencing. We've also got dancing and a theatre but I think that's enough for today."

"It's all quite remarkable," Matthew concluded. "Thank you so much for the tour."

Irene shook his hand. "Good luck. We can't wait to do the same in Yorkshire."

"You'll be more than welcome to stay at Downton when you do visit."

The two parted with Irene returning to her work in the administrative office and Matthew making his way to the train station to wait for the train from Downton Village with Mary on board.

XX

"We'll have champagne cocktails to celebrate Joseph's return." Matthew ordered their pre-lunch drinks at the restaurant adjoining the Savoy Hotel.

"That's pushing the boat out!" Joseph laughed. "I should leave and come back more often."

"I'm just eager to get back to fencing." Matthew retorted. "My lessons start as soon as your settled back at St. Dunstan's."

"I want in on that," Sam said eagerly. "Matthew's told me all about it."

Joseph reached out to feel for the stem of the champagne flute. "I admit fully to missing the place. Paris is awash in intrigue and disillusion with this conference of bickering heads of states and the grand vision of a new world we all know died somewhere on the Somme in 1916. I want to get back and do simple good work that I know will be of immediate benefit to someone's life."

Mary understood. She said, "I felt the same way about the hospital. I couldn't change war strategy or have any general listen to my outrage but I could help make sure the doctors and nurses had everything they needed to make the men got the best care. It had to be enough."

Matthew smiled and sat up straighter. He was proud of Mary's accomplishments. He reached out and felt for her hand to give it a supportive squeeze.

"A toast," Joseph said. "To all those who died and those who lived but did not come out unscathed. ' _Lest thou forget the things which thine eyes have seen, and lest they depart from thy heart all the days of thy life: but teach them thy sons, and thy son's sons_.'"

"Lest we forget." Matthew held up his glass.

"Lest we forget." Sam choked back some tears and held his up as well.

Mary watched these three men who could not see the other but yet knew each raised their glass to absent comrades. She joined her own glass to the toast. She had been feeling a bit outside of the circle of Matthew's closest friends but suddenly realized she belonged. They welcomed her as Matthew's wife but also because of her own work in support of the men who fought the war.

"Will you be joining Sam and me at St. Dunstan's this evening? There's a musical revue on the schedule," Joseph asked.

"No," Matthew replied. "Mary and I have to get back to Downton. Her sister is expected back from Ireland for George's christening. It's going to be a small family gathering."

Mary grimaced. Sybil and Tom's visit was fraught with tension and so there would be no larger celebration as neither she nor her husband knew what her father's reaction was going to be.

His last words to Sybil had been final. Her marriage represented a betrayal of the family. He believed she had thrown her life away on a man who had seduced her behind the family's back.

The finality of those words had stung. Sybil had left and went ahead with the marriage.

There seemed no going back from that.

XX

Sybil and Tom arrived for George's christening. After a strained tea with the family, they were upstairs getting changed for dinner.

Robert grumbled at any mention of Sybil's husband. Edith and Mary both attended the ceremony in Dublin a fortnight previous. Matthew had told her to go and that George would be well cared for by the staff and family. Neither had ended up staying very long as Mary wanted to return to George and Edith had very unexpectedly found out she was pregnant. She had assumed her weakened physical and emotional state was due to grief until she had collapsed one day at Strallan Hall. The local doctor was called and after an examination told her she was a little over three months along and that she had to take greater care of herself. Currently she was on bedrest for an extended period of time.

Mary had turned aside to Matthew upon her return and informing him of her sister's maternal state and said acerbically, "typical of my sister to go three months and not even know she's having a baby. I mean really? She's ever been scatterbrained."

"Now, now…" Matthew had tutted. "She's had a lot to deal with. And it's joyous news. We should be happy for her. Strallan's name will live on."

"You ever have a soft spot for Edith," Mary riposted. "But of course I'm happy. George will have a little cousin."

This evening however was the news of Sybil's arrival back home. Matthew had finished dressing for dinner and he opened his door and made his way to the chair near the fireplace. "It is good of Robert to relent even this much so I can finally meet Sybil's husband properly."

Mary was toying with the necklace around her neck at her dressing table. "Mama would have a fit otherwise. She's godmother to our baby and she's now married. We will all just have to adjust."

Matthew laughed. "I don't remember you being that supportive when you made me drive all the way to Scotland to fetch her back." He recalled that exciting day with mixed emotions. He and Mary had grown so close on that adventure. The kiss in the garage still made his lips tingle. But the betrayal of Lavinia stung. And then the reality he'd never drive again hit him hard.

"That was quite different." Mary replied drolly. "She had acted rashly and had to be brought to reason."

"And Tom? Have you really changed your mind on your sister marrying the chauffeur?"

"I'm working on it," Mary conceded. "I promised Sybil I would. She was quite determined to get her way and now she's done it. The wedding was simple but they seemed happy. She intends to continue her nursing and Tom's managed a job at a Dublin newspaper. But there is so much turmoil in Ireland. When we were there a general strike was called."

"It's not a good situation at all given that Sinn Féin has declared an independent Ireland. Lloyd George is bound to outlaw it and institute some kind of reprisals. But I am looking forward to get to know Tom."

Matthew sat back and was quiet for several moments.

Mary sometimes caught sight of him doing that. An enigmatic smile on his face.

"What are you doing when you sit like that?" He had encouraged her to ask questions about his blindness and not be worried he'd take offence.

Matthew's smile crinkled around the edges of his mouth. "I like listening to you get ready for dinner. The swish of your gown as you sit down. The crystal bottle of perfume makes a delightful chinking sound when you open it followed by a deliciously delicate scent. And you always fiddle with your necklace trying to find the perfect spot. I hear the rustling of the chains."

"Do I?" Mary flushed prettily at being captured in such detail by Matthew. She stood and walked over to his chair, leaning down and kissing him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her down onto his lap.

"And you always like to make me untidy…" Mary purred as his lips nuzzled her neckline making her skin tingle.

"Do I...?" Matthew's mouth engulfed her lips, stopping all conversation between them.

His hand snaked its way around her waist and down the soft satin towards her rounded rear. He groaned and his kisses became more intense, his tongue thrusting further down her mouth.

Mary curled to fit his body. She met his heat with that of her own. It had been a long time since they had indulged in love making.

"We really are expected downstairs darling." She reluctantly sat up straighter. "Mama will need us to keep the conversation going. Papa is bound to be in a sulk."

Mary stood.

"Let me get my cane." Matthew half-heartedly rose from the chair and walked the steps back into his dressing room.

Mary followed him inside, unwilling to let go of their intimacy.

He found his cane and turned back, a flirtatious smile dancing on his lips. He knew she was there. "Come here."

They embraced once more. Matthew's lip parted Mary's lower lip and pulled it open to take it fully into his mouth.

Lang walked back into the dressing room from the hallway.

Matthew and Mary flew apart.

"Oh God…" Lang retreated in haste.

Mary laughed. "I think we shocked him."

Matthew blushed. "Well we have rather invaded his space." He kissed her again. "This proves thought we must get away I think. Alone. I want to take you on a proper honeymoon." He didn't want to release her from his embrace. "Maybe in the autumn? I know you don't want to leave George yet. And I have the summer to get the Trust underway. We could go to Cannes and rent a villa for ten days or so. What do you think?"

His hair tickled her cheek making Mary shiver. "I think that sounds wonderful. It's not the usual time for society to go to the Riviera."

"Good." Matthew said in that luscious chocolate tone Mary loved. "That way we're assured privacy."

One last kiss.

Mary straightened her dress. Matthew retrieved his cane from beside the leather chair. He took Mary's arm and they made a move towards the door. Mary opened it and Matthew followed.

Lang was waiting outside. Matthew sensed his hovering presence. "I … found the… the cufflink that went missing. It fell on the floor on the landing while I was bringing them back from downstairs…after…after I polished them."

Matthew suppressed a chuckle knowing they must have given the poor man quite a shock and didn't want to embarrass him further. "Thank you, Lang. I knew you would. Good work."

Mary leaned in to Matthew's ear. "That must have been why he walked back into the dressing room. To return the cufflink. Just the potential of a servant stealing is a dismissal offence."

"Not Lang." Matthew said defensively.

"Of course not." Mary reassured. "He's a good man."

They met Sybil and Tom in the hallway.

Mary's eyes narrowed at Tom wearing a brown tweed suit for dinner. She said nothing but glanced darkly at Sybil.

Her sister took her husband's arm supportively and said "Let battle commence?"

Matthew, who did not know of his wife's disapproving look rejoined enthusiastically, "Strength in numbers. We're on your side."

"Dearest Matthew," Sybil clasped his hand. "Thank you."

Mary realized defeat gracefully. "Let's all just go down."

Mary and Sybil went first down the stairs followed by their husbands. Matthew felt for each step with his cane.

"Have you settled in?" Matthew tried to start a conversation with Tom.

"More or less. I'm not used to all this falderol. We live a completely different life in Ireland."

"I understand. I felt much the same."

They all arrived in the dining room. Matthew knew to take four steps into the dining room and then feel with his cane for the foot of the chair he usually occupied at dinner and then with his hand he pulled it back and sat down. Mary sat to his left. When his mother ate with the family, such as tonight, she was seated opposite him.

Eating was always another tricky maneuver to get right. He had to stop the feeling all eyes were on him to see if he managed to get the food on his plate without spilling. There was a help ironically in the protocol of mealtime. Hors d'oeuvres first. Then soup, served by the footman. Depending on how many courses it would be fish or game next. It was always served in a specific order so Matthew had learned to put the items on his plate in a clockwise fashion in small, manageable portions so he would always know where it was and how best to eat it. The staff, on Mary's request, accommodated Matthew by placing the dish beside him thus allowing him to maneuver the food onto his plate, and then lift it back and move on to the next person. Occasionally he asked Mary what meat or vegetable was being served but most times he could tell by smell or taste. Mary would make sure the proper wine glass for each course was placed closest to his plate after the footman had poured the liquid so he could feel for the foot and stem of the glass and bring it to his mouth.

As soon as Carson began serving the soup Violet observed aside to Cora, "is it an Irish tradition?" But loud enough for everyone to hear.

"What?" Tom's Irish lilt apparent who spoke.

Matthew, seated beside Cora wondered what she meant.

Then Robert let it be known. "She means not changing for dinner."

Matthew rolled his eyes. Robert's obsession with traditions long past their importance would run this estate into the ground.

"No, my lady. I don't own a set of tails. Or a dinner jacket. I wouldn't have any use for them."

"I hope you own a morning coat since you're here for the christening." Robert already frayed patience was nearing its end.

"Not that either I'm afraid. I can't turn into somebody else just to please you."

"Why should you?" Isobel spoke up. "You should never change to please others."

Matthew internally cheered his mother's support of the non-conformist and followed her lead by changing the subject. "I wondered if you wouldn't mind taking a walk with me tomorrow Tom?" He asked. "I need to take a look at the state of these cottages that will be used for housing the classrooms and hostel for the blinded soldiers."

"Sybil's told me a bit about your project. I want to know more about that. Irish Volunteers were chlorine gassed at Loos and Hulluch in 1916 as well as the Somme. We've done some articles on it for the _Evening Telegraph_."

"First thing in the morning then." Matthew wanted to find a way to get Tom on his own to get to know him. Mary was already planning to take Sybil on a long walk and lunch at Strallan Hall with Edith.

Matthew heard Robert's grumble but did not ask him along. He truly appreciated his father in law's long-term lease on the cottages and he knew in time he also hoped to show Robert that he could help with the administration of Downton's estate but he wasn't going to be bullied into giving him any of the Swire Trust money without a careful look at the estate's accounts. But that was going to require Mary's help. She had been an excellent administrator of the convalescent hospital and he wanted her to give a careful examination of the accounts but she still believed it was an issue of family loyalty and baulked at looking at them with an eye to finding proof of fraud or mismanagement.

For now he would concentrate on the Trust's investment in the St. Dunstan's venture.

"The next difficult step will be to find a director and an office manager."

"I might have someone in mind for the office manager position." Sybil spoke up.

"Really?" Matthew looked over in her direction.

"Who?" Mary was intrigued.

"You remember Gwen Dawson? She was an under house parlour maid before the war."

"Oh yes. Your project in self-improvement." Mary commented wryly.

"She left to take a secretarial job with the man who installed the telephone." Sybil reminded the family. "She's very clever and works hard."

"How do you even know she's still working at that? Maybe she's back in service."

"Oh we've kept in touch with Christmas cards. She was with Mr. Bromidge but took a position with the government during the war. She's always looking for challenging work. I'm quite sure she'd be perfect for your enterprise, Matthew."

Matthew was about to respond when Violet interjected "Must we talk about the servants?"

"Servants are human beings too," Isobel countered.

"Yes but preferably only on their days off. And not as dinner conversation."

"I think it's a very clever suggestion Sybil," Isobel ignored Violet's displeasure.

Cora decided it was best to move on. "Shall we go through?"

"What a relief," Violet uttered dryly.

Mary touched Matthew's hand briefly to let him know she was leaving. Matthew gave a half smile always regretting being parted from her.

Matthew was relieved the after dinner cigars and port was mercifully short as Robert was markedly sullen and Tom awkwardly quiet.

They met the ladies in the drawing room.

"Have you seen George?" Matthew sat down in his usual chair. He heard his sister in law's voice on the settee next to him. Mary had gone upstairs to nurse their son. He was mostly bottle fed at this point but for at least another month around this time of night she would slip away right before his bedtime.

"Mary and I poked our heads into the nursery earlier but he was napping and Nurse Todd was none too pleased with our presence," Sybil explained.

"She's a dear really. Just overprotective of George's schedule. Mid-morning is usually the best time," Matthew said. "We'll try again tomorrow before Tom and I go to the cottages."

"They are very derelict. I remember poking around in them as a child. I used to hide from a horrid governess in them. Most haven't really been in use since the mid-19th century."

"Yes. I had a look around a few months ago when I could see for myself. It's a matter of working out a plan now of where everything should be. I've talked with a couple of builders about roof damage and the rising damp. St. Dunstan's is sending up the designer of their annexes so we'll see what can be done." Matthew said. "And thank you for your help. I will make sure to find Miss Dawson. The position is a tricky one given that so many of the staff and residents will be blind."

"I will leave Gwen's address with Mary. She really is quite reliable and quick off the mark."

"It would be a relief to find someone that could pitch right in."

"I wish you luck with everything. We must all do what we can." Sybil said with emotion. "Such an ambitious undertaking but will do such good for the survivors of this awful war."

"It means the world to Mary to have you here for the christening. You and Tom."

"We're happy to be here." She glanced over at her parents. "Maybe it will bring us all together."

Matthew heard the melancholy in her voice. "One step at a time. You come from a very stubborn family. None of you take being wrong without going down with a fight. Robert will come around. He's just to proud to admit he's misjudged Tom."

"How do you know he has misjudged him? You hardly know Tom at all."

"You and Mary are high minded and excellent judges of character," Matthew observed judiciously. "And now we're brothers in law. Tom and I have to stick together to keep on your good sides."

Sybil laughed and Matthew felt glad to have helped relieve her anxiety even if just a little bit.

XX

"You've got your work cut out here," Tom said walking around some debris on the floor of the cottage. "But I can see the potential as well."

Matthew stayed outside, having learned it was unsafe for him to walk around inside in case he tripped and fell. "Mr. Tompkins will be up next week. He's been working on some of the annexes at St. Dunstan's and knows what will be required to get these refurbished. We've got local carpenters and fitters on contract. We just need to get the blueprints finalized and we can get underway."

"What happened to the tenants?" Tom asked. "In Ireland most struggled with absentee landlords who leased the land to middlemen for profit on the backs of the labouring classes who were evicted if they didn't pay the exorbitant rents."

"These haven't been used it for years according to Robert. They use the fields for their fox hunting." Matthew tried not to be too judgmental as he knew Mary thrilled to the chase.

"Ah well then nothing can interfere with the upper classes at play." Tom's sarcasm apparent.

"Rather. But the point is there's been no investment made." Matthew stopped before he went too far. He didn't want to divulge information about the family money situation without first consulting Mary. "There's a lot more to be done but for right now we've the chance to make good use out of these derelict cottages."

"It's what I want to do in Ireland. Become a part of it's coming of age. I don't approve of violence but I want a free state."

"So you'll be staying in Ireland? Not finding your fortune in America?"

"For the time being at least. Sybil wants to be within traveling distance of her home."

"I know Mary will be pleased." Matthew said. "Let me show you where we intend to link the cottages to the main road."

The two men continued to walk in easy companionship.

"You won't mind a Catholic attending your child's christening? Some might say just being there is a sacrilege. I can see them staring at me and I know they don't want me here."

"Well not me." Matthew assured. "Remember I'm also an outsider here. Robert hardly welcomed me with open arms." He stopped short of saying that he believed it was only the money he brought that gave him any sense of equality within the family. "Mary too is on your side."

"Oh yes. She was truly welcoming of the former chauffeur as brother in law." Tom chuckled.

"She's a pragmatist. What's done is done. She knows your love is true towards her sister. It's just her aristocratic nature that's put out of joint."

"Along with everyone else's."

"That's what we're here for," Matthew grinned. "We're the polite interlopers intent on changing things. They may howl at the moon in rage at first but soon they'll see we mean business. They have to start moving with the times or they'll be swept completely away."

Tom grunted in agreement.

"As for today, Mary said they would be back from Strallan Hall in time for tea."

They reversed their tracks back towards Downton in order to greet their wives upon their return.

XX

"If you all could form a group around the parents." The photographer tried to corral the family together outside the church.

Sybil and Edith took their places on either side of Mary and Matthew. Mary held George who mercifully had fallen asleep after a crying jag at the baptismal font. He wore the christening gown generations of Crawley infants had worn before him. Made of linen and silk with rows of pintucks and embroidery on the bodice, long sleeved and closed in the back with ties.

Tom moved to stand beside his wife. Cora on the other side next to Edith. Isobel took a place next to Tom while Violet moved to stand next to Cora.

"My Lord could you take you place?" the photographer addressed Robert. Robert had been conversing with the Reverend Travis. Both men joined the group.

Once the photograph was taken the family they made a move towards the cars that would take them back to Downton.

Matthew walked, taking his mother's arm for guidance to the Vauxhall. He overheard Robert say to Sybil, "Let today by a reminder of what really matters. You will be back to Dublin now I suppose?"

"Yes. We both have our duties to attend there."

"May we part friends at least? I … " Robert hesitated. "I see no profit in a quarrel. You've made your bed and now you must lie in it. But if you're sure it's what you want…"

"I am sure." Sybil answered.

"Then you may take my blessing with you. And there'll be some money. But if you mistreat her, I will personally have you torn to pieces by wild dogs."

Matthew heard Tom's nervous chuckle and his response, "I'd expect no less."

"Thank you, Papa." Sybil's relief apparent.

"Will wonders never cease?" Isobel commented to her son as they walked past.

"Now Mother. I'm glad Robert's come around. It's good for the family."

"I heard from Violet that there's a Branson family with a place near Cork that are connected to the Howards. She's already plotting to hitch onto them to minimise the scandal."

Matthew chortled. "Wheels within wheels. It's what keeps them going."

Mary met them beside the car. "Will you take George while I step into the car?"

"Of course." Matthew held out his hands and Mary placed their son in his arms. He squirmed a bit before settling back down. Matthew kissed his brow tenderly.

Isobel helped him hand back George to Mary after she settled into the car and then stepped in beside her.

"A lovely end to the day." Mary observed. She had seen the exchange between her father and the Bransons. "I'm quite relieved."

"It's a grand gesture on your father's behalf," Matthew agreed, thinking to himself that maybe he could get the older man to listen to reason about the estate after all.

XX

 _Joseph's toast is based on Deuteronomy 4:7-9 and the Kipling poem "Recessional." Ian and Irene Fraser (and her nickname Chips) are real as are the facts about the hostel and it's workplaces but I have of course fictionalized the addition of Downton to the annexes of St. Dustan's. Blind cricket was invented by Australians in 1921._

 _I've frankly fallen in love with the history of St. Dunstan's and the remarkable vision of it's founder Sir Arthur Pearson. Thank you for reading and enjoying this story. Lots more to come including a romantic getaway to Cannes._


	25. Chapter 25

XX

Mary lovingly watched Matthew cradle their son in his arms. His eyes were closed and his face softened as he touched his cheek to George's ever so gently. The eight month old was fighting sleep. His eyes blinking hard and fast. Matthew quietly crooned a traditional English folk song.

 _A frog he would a-wooing go,  
Heigh ho! says Rowley,  
A frog he would a-wooing go,  
Whether his mother would let him or no.  
With a rowley, powley, gammon, and spinach,  
Heigh ho…_

They were seated on the old stone wall that had become a favored spot of the couple. Mary had lifted George out of the pram and handed him to Matthew who leaned his body against a support column to more easily balance holding the child.

 _So off he set with his opera hat,  
Heigh ho! says Rowley,  
So off he set with his opera hat,  
And on the road he met with a rat,  
With a rowley, powley, gammon, and spinach…_

"I've never heard of that one," Mary said.

"Father used to sing it around the surgery as he was doing busywork like disinfecting the instruments or arranging his daily schedule of visits. I'd sometimes help out during school holidays."

She noticed his wistful look. "It's a lovely way to include him in George's life."

He gave a half smile. "He'd have loved the little chap. Mother of course is over the moon."

"So is Papa."

She saw Matthew's face scowl briefly and then return to a more even expression before he hoped Mary saw.

But she did.

"I wish you two would work out your differences."

Matthew shifted to get a better grasp of the child.

Mary instinctively reached out in case Matthew lost his balance.

"I'm fine," Matthew reassured quietly. "Is he asleep?"

She couldn't help but feel a pinch of concern but was relieved Matthew didn't mind her wariness. One of the things she had opened up about in the past few months was her fear of him stumbling or losing his grip while holding the baby. She tried to couch it with "I know you won't…" but he had stopped her and said "you have every right to be worried. I don't mind that you keep a cautious eye out. He's precious and you're his mother. We put ourselves into your tender care to make sure that doesn't happen."

So now she just retracted her hands back into her lap. "He's fast asleep."

Matthew continued the thread of their earlier conversation. "I will try harder with Robert but he still thinks I should just hand him over money on his word alone that it will be well invested." He scoffed slightly. "I just can't. You know I can't. Reggie's money can't be thrown away on a whim."

"Maybe when we get back from Cannes we can make a start on the accounting books," Mary answered indifferently.

He looked skeptical and said guardedly, "Will you really want to go over them? It might end with some aspects of the way things have been done that we might not be quite sure about."

"Is that your diplomatic way of saying you suspect Jarvis of fiddling the books?"

"I'm afraid it is," Matthew answered honestly. "Or at the very least that he's let things go that can no longer be allowed."

"Papa doesn't like hearing that about trusted family retainers. He's very loyal."

Matthew's mouth tightened. "He can keep his head in the sand about it but if he has any hope of modernizing the estate it's got to be done."

"Noses will be put out of joint. I'm not sure I want to be a part of that." Mary's voice was sounding strained.

Matthew heard it. "Let's not talk about it now," he relented. "I want our time in France to be free of any discord."

Mary breathed a sigh of relief. "Anna finished packing my trunks. She said Lang would have them all taken down so Hodgkins can drive them to the station in time for our departure in the morning."

"The agent at Thomas Cook and Son said that the chatelaine has been informed of our arrival time." He had been pleased at the selection of the Villa Belle Rive for their stay. François-Henri Lavanchy-Clarke, the owner, was a philanthropist as well as business man and had helped found the Swiss Red Cross and opened workshops for the blind after the Franco-Prussian War. As soon as Matthew heard that he knew that was villa for them. As with so much of France the Côte d'Azur was struggling in the wake of war. Fewer returning tourists meant the beautifully set villa had been available for a long stay at a significantly reduced price. He hoped that did not mean spartan accommodations as he wanted to spoil Mary on this vacation.

They both deserved it.

Mary made a move to get up from the stone wall. "Florence will be expecting me back for George's midday meal. She says he grabbed the spoon yesterday and put it in his own mouth and then tried to feed her with it."

Matthew laughed merrily. "What is he eating now?"

"Oatmeal. Peas and cut up carrots or apples and pears. He's becoming quite adventurous."

"Has he any more teeth?"

"His upper incisors have only just broken through." She reached out and took George from Matthew's arms and put him back in the perambulator. Matthew swung his legs over the side of the wall and gingerly stepped down, reaching out for his cane but not finding it in the spot he had rested it.

"It's fallen over," Mary said. She retrieved it from the ground and put it in his hand.

"Thank you darling." Matthew grasped the silver tip. "Perhaps we can steal an hour or two later with him in the nursery before his bedtime? I'd really like to before we leave in the morning."

Matthew had been putting in long hours setting up the Swire Trust for the Employable Blind on the estate and had not been able to spend as much time with George as he wanted. When they returned from France he intended to pull back and allow the new chairman Trevor Sanderling to get everything ready for the grand opening set for October. Trevor was a legally blind veteran who had come highly recommended by Sir Arthur Pearson at St. Dunstan's who said the young man had a head for business and a heart of gold. Matthew offered him the position and he had accepted. Gwen Dawson had also agreed to the post of office manager and was already proving an asset in getting the administrative end of things organized in the cottage set aside as the main office.

"I have to finish a letter to Sybil and meet Mama for tea with Granny. How much longer will you be?"

He reached out and felt the arm of the pram and guided his fingers towards his son's blanket and then finally his little fingers and face. Gave George a last kiss on the cheek. "Bye bye Georgie boy."

The baby started to fuss so he knew Mary had to get him back for his lunch. He turned to Mary.

"I shouldn't be more than a few hours. Trevor and I are meeting the builders who are finishing up the braille classroom and then with Hanson who was kind enough to come up from London to work on the model farm and woodshop."

She moved closer and touched his arm. Matthew leaned in and she met her lips to him.

"Until later."

XX

The nursery maid Florence met Mary in the salon of Downton to retrieve Master George and take him back upstairs. Mary gave her son a kiss and walked into the small library to the desk where she had left her letter to Sybil half finished.

She missed her sister so far away in Ireland. And she worried as the news from Dublin had become more and more prone to political unrest. But she knew enough to keep her correspondence light. Sybil liked being in the thick of things and didn't want her sister fussing.

…

 _Edith is once again on bedrest now that she's less than a month from her delivery date. She's itching to get back to working on the estate but Dr. Clarkson is adamant she remain well rested in case of any complications. She's really not had the easiest last few months with bouts of severe nausea so we're all on the doctor's side. Mama tries to visit her every other day and we are all eager to welcome a little cousin to George._

Mary expected a letter any day from Sybil saying that she was with child and wondered how their father would react to having a Catholic grandchild. Another worry for another day.

She continued to write

 _Speaking of George, he's getting so big! He's about ready to start crawling as he pushes himself around the nursery floor on his stomach, little grunts of exertion making everyone laugh. Matthew asks all sorts of questions about George's development. His face light's up when George wraps his little arms around his papa's neck. He won't say anything because he's determined to always be cheerful so that George won't ever believe his father distant or detached, but I see shadows cross his face every so often as he realizes George has grown and changed so much from the night he was born. We don't really speak of it. He will get down on the floor alongside George and carefully feel around and build tall towers out of blocks and then knock them down just to listen to George clap and make this delightful gurgling sound. When you visit next you must see this for yourself._

 _I'm not sure how Matthew will take being parted from George but we're off to the south of France tomorrow via the Brighton Railway leaving from Victoria at 10:00 in the morning. We'll catch the ferry and the boat train to Paris late tomorrow evening and then switch to another train from St. Lazare finally reaching Cannes in the afternoon of the following day. A long couple days travel but Matthew's found a villa called Belle Rive just a few minutes' walk to the beach so it sounds ideal. I hope the weather will not be too hot. There are concerts at night. And the casinos. I admit to a certain curiosity but Matthew is such a conscientious bean counter I doubt he'd approve of any frivolous gambling._

 _I do know he's looking forward to having some time alone. Living at Downton alongside Papa has not always been easy for him. I do wish they could put aside their differences. Matthew had wanted to call in Mr. Murray to look over the estate accounts as he knows I'm reluctant to interfere in Papa's business but I put a stop to that. We should not look outside the family for help. Papa must be involved at every step or he will be humiliated. In time Matthew will understand._

 _I will write when we are settled at the villa,_

 _Your loving sister,_

 _Mary_

She rose from the desk chair, walked into the salon to drop her letter off on salver for the post, and stepped into the larger library hearing her grandmother's voice, "Spratt is quite the diva."

Mary knew that was the new butler at the Dower House.

"He's even more a snob than I am." She tittered in light laughter.

"Will Matthew be joining us?" Cora turned to her daughter.

Mary sat down across from two older women. "No. Not today. He's finishing up at the cottages before our trip tomorrow."

Robert opened the door to join the family. Hearing the last part of Mary's announcement, he said "when will they be finished? All these builders traipsing about on the estate. Mama's car was held up on the drive just now…"

Violet turned to her son. "Don't put me in the middle. We must all help our brave boys. Matthew spoke to me about it at length about what he hoped to accomplish. It's quite ambitious and can only bring honour on the Crawley name."

"Swire more like," Robert continued to grouse. "He's named it after him."

"Do stop this nonsense, Robert or I will take away your sweets as I did when you whinged as a little boy. It is his money but it's on our estate. Matthew told me they intend to call the location Downton Hall."

"See Papa." Mary gave her father a mollifying kiss on the cheek. "Besides you won't have to endure it much longer. Matthew says they will have the grand opening in a fortnight with the residents moving in shortly after."

"How many?"

"About twenty at first I believe."

Another long-suffering groan from her father.

"Papa you've been very obliging, don't change now. Matthew assures me no one in the house will even know they are on the estate. It's completely autonomous after the side road is laid down."

"It's all in a worthy cause," Robert admitted. "It's just that Downton has existed for hundreds of years in perfect harmony. I hope these changes won't be too disruptive."

Mary said nothing but knew Matthew intended more far reaching changes for the estate if it was to survive.

"I do have some news as well." Robert turned towards his daughter. "I've got word from Jackson that Brompton Farms has some very strong hunters and he has eye on two or three chestnuts. Now that they're no longer being mobilized we should take a look. Berkeley and Adams have been onto me to start the hunt again."

Mary, despite her irritation with her father regarding Matthew's ventures, was intrigued. Now that George was older and she had returned to her old self she longed to return to the chase. Diamond had been requisitioned and almost immediately killed at Mons in 1914. She had gotten word of this only because the cavalryman recognized the horse as one he admired the previous year at a hunt in Yorkshire. To her sorrow Mary had not remembered the young man at all whom she later learned lost his life at the same battle. Patrick didn't like her talking with male members of the hunting parties before the war. He was ever concerned with appearances.

"Can they wait until after our return?"

"I'll drop a word we're interested." Robert knew that their shared passion in the hunt would return Mary's good graces. "We might start again in October or November if we can get enough mounts."

Mary's pulse started to race at the mere thought.

XX

Matthew soaked in the warmth of Cannes. It had been chilly and dampish in Yorkshire and he had been looking forward to the sun. Everyone said don't go to Cannes in the dog days of summer but by late September the worst had given way. To an Englishman not prone to being a mad dog going out in the midday sun the temperatures were just perfect.

Mary and Anna were inside. Anna finishing up the unpacking of the trunks and Mary talking with the chatelaine on the daily schedule for their stay. Mary's French was delightful on his ears. Her confidence built from years of tutoring and travels. His own language skills were more scattered. He had learned Latin and Greek at school though he struggled to pick up classic works in Braille, finding it easier to learn through speaking. His German was proficient and his conversational French was good, though tinged with words from a regional dialect as one of his friends at school was Provençal, a native of Marseilles who rebelled against the eradication of the old languages in his native region by learning some of the old tongue from his nanny much to the chagrin of his progressive parents. Matthew had found the differences in pronunciation and word usage fascinating.

He was seated on a large wrought iron chair on the open corner terrace, the heat tempered a bit by a fig trees overhanging the villa. Lang had finished unpacking and was working on organizing the rooms at the back set aside for himself and Anna. There was a hired cook for daily meals taken at the villa while they also hoped to dine out frequently at restaurants along the promenade of _La Croisette_ Boulevard.

"Settling in?" Mary walked through from the interior. She approached Matthew and gently touched her hand to his back. He noticeably relaxed and she began to run her hand up and down.

They had arrived later than expected the previous night and went immediately to bed. This morning they were finally getting organized.

"I am." He lifted his head. She bent down and kissed him. Matthew struggled to remember the correct phrasing, " _Je_ … _T'aimi de tout meu cor_ …. _mon Cœur…_ er…" He started to laugh as her lips tickled. René had tried to teach him some Provençal love poems and he was getting the words mixed up with his knowledge of standardized French.

 _Je t'aime de tout mon Cœur…"_ Mary responded in the Metropolitan dialect.

" _Oui…"_ Matthew continued kissing while speaking.

" _Tu dis ça à toutes les filles_ ," Mary jested.

" _Non, non…"_ Matthew's mouth covered hers in a cavernous kiss. " _Seulement toi_ …"

Matthew lifted her onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder. It was their favorite embrace. She knew he loved the feel of her body sideways next to his.

"We should try to make an international call later to make sure George is sleeping without us saying good night."

Mary loved Matthew's wistful voice. "Do you miss him already?"

Matthew had to admit, "Yes." But then he said, kissing her again. "I like this as well."

He snuggled closer.

"What shall we do today?"

"Maybe a stroll along the boulevard?" Matthew suggested.

"After being cooped up in that train for so long it sounds just the thing."

They set out after a _petit dejeuner_ of _café_ and croissants.

"It's a beautiful day." Mary said casually. Then wondered if that was something she should be saying. "I mean…" hesitating she paused.

She felt Matthew's arm slide down. "Don't…" He spoke quietly but firmly.

"What?"

They stopped.

He squeezed her hand. "Don't pull back your words on my account. You don't have to do that. Do what you want. Speak what's on your mind always."

Mary then shocked him by kissing his lips lightly then with more purpose.

"Darling," he teased. "Out in public?"

"You said to do what I want." Mary brushed a stray lock of hair away from his cheek. He was just so very handsome.

Matthew pursed his lips and looked pensively out over the water. "There are so many things I'm going to miss out on. I'll never seen the Mediterranean in the morning. I've been told it's so iridescent it dazzles and hurts those that gaze upon it."

Mary delicately ran her fingertip down his cheek. "Your eyes are the same colour as the water. Every time I look at you I will remember this place. This day."

" _Mon Cœur…"_ He turned, kissing the palm of her hand as it rested on his cheek.

They continued walking.

"Have you a choice for a restaurant? I've been told of a place at the Hotel Carlton, La Belle Otero."

"Rosamund told me about the hotel." Mary shaded her eyes with her hand. "I believe it's right up there. You can't really miss it." The imposing structure dominated the skyline.

Matthew started to laugh.

"What is it?"

He flushed red as he answered. "It's said that the domes on the corners of the hotel were designed using the …erm… the rather shapely endowments of ' _la Belle Otero_ ' that is Carolina Otero the famous Spanish courtesan as the model."

"And how do you know so much about it?" Mary needled, loving his embarrassment.

He licked his lips cheekily. "Didn't I tell you about that misadventure in Paris during the war?"

She smacked his arm. "Oh you…"

He chortled. "There's a lot of idle talk in the mess. Stories get spread. Should we try out the restaurant?"

"Only if we can go to the _Casino Municipal_ after…" Mary could tease right back. "I've heard it's got the best gaming tables on the Riviera."

"The casino?" Matthew clearly took a dim view of that possibility. "You want to gamble?"

It was Mary's turn to laugh. "Papa is right. You are a middle-class bean counter."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Matthew's mouth twitched in amusement. "The middle classes have their virtues. Understanding the value of money is one of them. Your granny's prohibition against such talk as vulgar notwithstanding."

"We didn't always have to keep on top of it," Mary admitted ruefully. "The war changes many things."

She sounded so forlorn all of a sudden, Matthew relented. "Do you really want to go?"

"Just for a bit. It would be a shame to go to Cannes and not visit one." Her voice getting excited once more.

"If you really want to…"

Mary giggled and pecked his cheek. "Thank you darling."

He gave her a puckish grin. "You better win."

"I fully intend to do just that."

They clasped arms again and continued their turn along the boulevard.

XX

"It's what I'd expect the ninth circle of Dante's hell to sound like," Matthew observed dryly as they made their way through the casinos' doorway and handed their coats to the attendant.

'Shush," Mary said. "You'll love it."

Matthew felt himself jostled by a group making their way towards the exit. They laughed raucously and smelled of cigars and alcohol.

"What shall we play?" He offered gamely. "Baccarat? I've no idea what the rules are…"

"Roulette," Mary decided firmly.

"A game of utter chance?" He sounded aghast at the very notion.

"All the more reason." Mary took him by the hand and led him to the table.

The croupier called out " _Faites vos jeux…"_ as they approached.

A shuffle of sounds. Then " _rien ne va plus…"_

Matthew heard the bounce of the ball as the wheel spun. It fell into a pocket.

" _Rouge vingt-deux."_

Then a series of moans or gleeful claps. Someone lost. And someone won.

Mary put some chips down on a colored square. She had changed money for some earlier.

"What did you do?" Matthew asked.

" _Noir trente-six."_

Matthew waited for the croupier to spin.

Mary groaned. "No win."

"Try a lower number _,"_ Matthew said confidently. " _A manqué._ Say _rouge deux_."

"Why?"

He shrugged insouciantly. "I have a feeling."

 _Faites vos jeux…"_

She did so.

 _"Rien ne va plus…"_

The ball skipped and the wheel spun.

" _Rouge deux_ ," the croupier called.

Matthew grinned smugly. Mary was astonished.

"I thought you didn't like gambling?" She bantered.

He wrinkled his nose in faux disgust then said, "I hate losing."

Mary rolled her eyes and placed another bet.

They played several more rounds and quit before they lost. Matthew gathered the winnings and they sauntered out onto the balcony and sat down to get away from the noise inside. Matthew put up his hand in hopes of waving over a waiter to order a bottle of champagne.

One was nearby and very soon it arrived.

"To you my sweetest Mary." Matthew raised his flute. "I never knew this kind of love was possible."

Mary reached out to touch his glass. "I feel the same my darling."

They finished the bottle and started to walk out after gathering their coats. The night had turned chilly and Matthew put his arm around Mary's waist.

He staggered ever so slightly.

"Are you tipsy?" Mary asked, then burped to her horror.

Matthew snorted in delight. "No more than you my dear." He slurred the last part of the sentence.

"We should go straight back to the villa and go to bed." Mary covered her mouth before another fizzy burp slipped out.

Matthew gave her a wicked side eye. "You read my mind. I intend to do just that."

"What?" She moved closer to hear him better.

He whispered in her ear. "Take you to bed."

Mary felt a shiver of desire shoot through her as his hot breath met her skin.

He paused for effect. "But I've no intention of sleeping..."

XX

 _Rated M chapter next😊. Forgive my French (all blame to me not my darling beta) and all mistakes on roulette. I tried my best._


	26. Chapter 26

_A night to remember in Cannes. M rated chapter_

XX

The villa was quiet. It was going on 12am by the time Mary and Matthew walked the few steps to the front door.

Inside the foyer was chilly as their footfalls echoed on the stone floor.

"The staircase is just here…" Mary guided Matthew in the semi-darkness. He put his hand on the rail and Mary started to ascend the staircase.

Matthew snuck in a kiss at the bottom stair. It became a wandering embrace as Matthew's fingers slowly drew across her back, bringing her closer and closer. "Darling…" he nibbled on her lower lip.

Mary leaned into his body. They fit tightly together. His kisses exploded in her mouth like champagne, demanding all her attention and an invitation to even more pleasures yet to come.

And then he stumbled as he tried to take the first step upstairs. He swayed in Mary's arms.

They giggled simultaneously and helped each other up the rest of the way.

Once upstairs Matthew reached along the wall and then down to feel the door knob to their bedroom. He gripped it and then stopped.

"After you…" He murmured. "Remember to tell Anna that she can go to bed? I'll be helping you …" His beguilingly slow smile told the whole story. "I'll go next door to tell Lang."

Mary grazed his cheek with her lips. "I can't wait."

Matthew felt along the wall six steps more and reached down for the knob. He heard Lang inside and opened the door.

"Good evening sir."

Matthew nodded a greeting and walked a few steps inside. He started to undo his bow tie and take out the front collar stud, idly humming the catchy tune they had heard wafting out of a restaurant. He had taken Mary into his arms and, oblivious to any attention drawn to them, danced an intimate pas de deux along the water front promenade.

An occasion that would live in his memory forever.

"Did you and Lady Mary have a pleasant time, sir?"

"Very nice indeed," Matthew answered absentmindedly. He then attempted, "Um…look here Lang…"

He heard the valet take a few steps forward ready to undo the back stud and take off the collar. He then waited for Matthew to continue but instead Matthew left the black tie loose around his neck and kept his dinner jacket on.

He tried again. "Thank you, Lang, but I don't think I'll be needing anything more tonight." Matthew said, he hoped nonchalantly. "Why don't you take yourself off to bed. We've kept you awake long enough."

"Very good, sir." Lang answered deftly, not giving away any surprise at this request. "I'll be back in the morning to finish putting away the accoutrements."

"Erm… not too early in the morning," Matthew added, puckishly shifting his eyes back and forth as he would have done when sighted.

Lang was unflappable. "Good night."

Matthew heard the click of the door as Lang left. He relaxed, still unused to having to share his most private moments.

He took off the jacket and then sat down and removed his socks and shoes to give Mary a bit more time with Anna and then stood up and felt along the wardrobe to the door adjoining their bedroom. He didn't hear any conversation so he opened the door.

"All clear," Mary said brightly as he poked his head inside. "I did have Anna take my hair down."

"Lovely." He walked through. He knew it was about three steps over to Mary's dressing table.

"But that's all …" Her voice softened as he approached and reached out for the back of her chair and then his hand caressed her left arm.

He leaned down.

Matthew felt the curls of her hair tickle his cheeks as he buried his face along her shoulder. He brushed some strands aside and kissed the nape of her neck.

She tingled in delight and contemplated her husband through the mirror. His hair was still tousled from their walk back from the casino in the windy night air. He had opened the top button of his shirt, his tie loose around his collar. His eyes were closed as he concentrated his kisses along her neckline. His mouth was soft and warm on her skin. His cheeks full blooded indicative of his rising ardour.

"How did you get to be so devilishly handsome?" She teased coquettishly.

He chuckled. "All in the eyes of the beholder, my darling but I thank you for the compliment."

Matthew moved his hands gently to clasp her face in his hands, his thumb swept gently down the right side of her face. He kissed her cheek.

" _The fountains mingle with the river,  
_ _And the rivers with the ocean,  
_ _The winds of heaven mix forever  
_ _With a sweet emotion;  
_ _Nothing in the world is single;  
_ _All things by law divine  
_ _In one another's being mingle;  
_ _Why not I with thine?_

Mary touched Matthew's cheek to her own. "It's quite unfair reciting Shelley…" She murmured in utter contentment.

Matthew smiled.

 _See the mountains kiss high heaven  
_ _And the waves clasp one another  
_ _No sister flower would be forgiven  
_ _If it disdained its brother…_

Matthew slipped his mouth from her cheek to her lips. He brushed them with his own lips and continued

… _And sunlight clasps the earth,  
_ _And the moonbeams kiss the sea;  
_ _What are all these kissings worth  
_ _If thou kiss not me?_

She met his lips in a passionate kiss. "There," she breathlessly whispered. "Will that do?"

"Quite," he answered as he glided his hands down her arms and guided her hands into his. He helped her up.

"Where shall I start?"

"I'll turn around and you can do your best with these buttons. Even Anna said they were particularly tricky."

"A challenge…" His left eyebrow arched. "I accept."

The wine dark sleeveless silk dress with floral beaded embellishments was a favorite of Mary's. It flattered and hugged her figure and had a raised hemline which she felt was just right for a night at the casino.

Just last year Mary would have modeled it and Matthew would had loved watching her. She knew he would openly observe her walking across a room, brushing her hair, or putting on lotions or perfume. To capture all in his memory so that when he could no longer see he would witness and remember these things in his mind's eye.

Now there were times in the past months Mary did not know what to do. She worried that almost anything would be the wrong thing to do. Ignore him when getting dressed and he might feel left out of a formerly cherished shared routine. Make a show of it and he would become painfully aware of what was lost between them. So there were days that had become quite awkward between them. Matthew had been so busy with the Trust in the past few months they had mostly been running around in opposite directions. She was involved in fixing up a suite next to their bedroom as a sitting room and possibly even a separate dining room for just their family on days Matthew might not want the added burden of a formal dinner with his in laws and relations. The rooms were all attached to the other by a series of double doors making getting around independently a real benefit. It would also give them the privacy they both craved. Mary found that Matthew was so much more at ease when there were not that many people around making him feel as if he was on public display.

And here in the sun kissed privacy of Cannes they finally talked out how to adapt their intimacy to Matthew's restrictions and thereby enhance the experience for both.

Matthew had suggested that they remove the intercession of Anna and Lang in preparing for bed and instead they "take turns undressing the other to get more…" he rubbed his fingers and thumbs together trying to arrive at the proper word, "…erm tactile, more physical. It will allow me to take part once again and not be removed at a distance."

Mary listened carefully and understood what he was trying to say. "We can do that whenever you want. Just say the word." She was so glad he said he wanted to take steps to increase their intimacy.

Matthew looked up at her, using the same mannerism he had when sighted. It sometimes unnerved her as he still penetrated her soul and pulled out her most secret desires.

"You can participate as well…" He added cautiously.

"How?" Mary was intrigued.

"You could close your eyes and do the same…" He leaned forward on the settee. "Or…" He swallowed. "I could blindfold you in some way… a sash or wrap …." He licked his lips nervously, afraid of scandalizing Mary.

He heard her gasp. "I…don't mean to shock you…"

And then what sounded like relief. "I'm not shocked darling. I just thought you would think that was mocking or demeaning in some way. As if I was trying to be something I'm not and couldn't possibly experience the same as you."

"But you can…" Matthew said eagerly. "I want you too. I want us to be together in this."

They put the plan into action that very night.

"Do you have the lights off?" He asked.

"I'm doing that just now." Mary switched off the bedside lamp. "There is firelight because of the chill."

He had already heard the crackling flames. His mouth twitched mischievously. "That's where the sash comes in."

Matthew began by touching the sequins on the gown surrounding the neckline and her décolletage. He cupped each bosom in turn. Then leisurely ran his hands down the silk fabric to feel the sensuous curve of her waist. Undid the embroidered sash and it dropped. He took each of the embroidered buttons in turn and unfastened them carefully in his fingers. He drew his fingers up her back and slowly removed the dress from her shoulders, hearing it sink to the ground.

He felt her shudder in anticipation.

"What's next?" He asked tantalizingly against her ear.

"Corset." Mary, adding playfully, "You have to loosen the tension. Give the laces a tug… are you up for it?"

"Absolutely." His lips came down to kiss her bare shoulder. She trembled as his touch became bolder as he felt down and undid the string tie at the back and grunted as he pulled on the laces to loosen the corset and give it some slack so he could more easily remove it. It came loose and she undid the hooks in the front and removed the corset.

Matthew bent down to feel the silky-smooth fabric of the stockings along the shapely curves of her leg.

"Let me help you…" Mary undid the garters holding up her stockings and took off the corset.

His hands then roamed along her torso, the underbodice camisole still to come off which he did gently taking it over her head. And then down to her hips and rounded rear still covered by Directoire style knickers that came down as he pulled on the tie.

Their breathing became more erratic as they shifted to a nearby armchair.

Mary sat down so he could remove her stockings. Mary could hear Matthew's shallow breaths get deeper as his hands moved across the lower extremities of her body. His fingers made way to her right leg. Mary extended her leg out and he pulled the stocking down her thigh, knee and calf and removed it from her foot. The left was next.

Once free Mary sank down into the seat and opened her legs as Matthew's fingers lingered, feeling her curves and shallows. He moved in between with his face and hands touching and kissing her inner thighs. Mary felt her body tingle with gooseflesh bumps as his hair tickled her. He moved to kiss one leg and then the other. He tasted her and felt her slick insides.

Her whimpering made him know he was getting close…

"My turn…" She demanded suddenly. Her voice was hoarse, dry mouthed. Any more of his fierce ministrations and she'd be gone. Time to turn tables.

Matthew's face was now completely flushed. His hair clung now to his forehead as he was sweating slightly from his exertions. His eyes were wide opened, pupils dilated so just showing a ring of bright cerulean blue.

He blinked and stood up, slowing recovering his senses. "Where did I put that sash?" He turned but really had no idea where it had fallen to the floor.

It's right here." Mary rose, slightly off balance from the sensation of his intimate touch and staggered over to the foot of her dressing table.

She bent down and retrieved the sash where he had thrown it and walked slowly back and put it in his hand.

"Thank you. Are you ready? No peeking remember?"

She put her hand in his and sat down on the bed. He guided his hand up her arm to her face so he knew where she was. Taking both ends of the sash in each hand he pulled it around her eyes and tied it in the back. The fabric was soft against her skin. She ran her hands around the silken sash, adjusting it. The band making her feel light-headed but not because it was too tight. It made her aware she was surrendering to his world completely.

"Do you feel it darling?" He asked, urgently. His voice coming from the right side of her face, hot on her cheek. "I want you too…"

Her initial bewilderment gave way, distilled into a recognized series of sounds and smells.

And then a preternatural awareness of the space around her.

She heard his breathing and felt his presence.

Matthew touched her arm, gliding his fingertips along her bare skin. Mary, startled that she had no idea he was to do that, shuddered and almost fell over at the electric shock of lust that took over.

Her body ached for him to touch her all over.

They both stood up. Matthew now supporting her as she would usually support him.

"I'm ready to start," she said. Her fingers fumbled at first try, she began to slowly unbutton his vest, then gaining confidence dragged her fingers on the suspenders up and down, flicking them once against his chest. He laughed, knowing she was getting in the spirit of this sightless seduction.

She pulled them off his shoulders and began to unfasten the dress shirt, running her fingernails inside to tickle him as she worked her way down his chest. Pulling it off his arms she realized there were the cufflinks keeping the sleeve from slipping off.

"For goodness sakes…" she muttered, fumbling around to find the fasteners. She started to laugh as it became impossible to find it among the crumpled linen around his wrist.

Matthew caught her giggles and lost his balance. They fell on top of the bed, curled up, limbs entwined.

His hands started to roam towards her rounded rear end. "Ah…Ah" Mary warned, playfully batting his hand away. "Not until I'm done with you."

"In that case get on with it!" He mockingly demanded. Between them Matthew unhooked the cufflinks and she slipped off each sleeve arm.

To make it easier to know exactly where he was she straddled him.

"That's more like it…" Matthew muttered blissfully. He sank into the coverlets as she teasingly felt along his torso, muscles twitching beneath goose bumped skin. Down to his bellybutton and the bulge she felt beneath his trousers. Her touch made him groan. Sliding her hands along his torso she lifted the undershirt over his head.

Matthew clasped hands with her after he lifted them so she could take the shirt off and then let go as she moved her hands back down his chest and felt her way towards the trousers.

These also proved to be a bit of an obstacle and Mary was eager to get them off and rooted around for the buttons.

Matthew heard her frustration. "Here…let me help…"

He stood up and took his trousers and undershorts completely off. He reached out and felt for her hips as she sat on the edge of the bed. Using both his hands under her shoulders he lifted her off the bed.

"Come here…"

They finally embraced bare skin to bare skin. The exploration of each other's boy was a revelation for Mary. Using only touch she felt the curvature of his biceps. The bristle of his chest hair. She ran her fingers in between his. Kissed his cheek which already had a spikey quality from not having shaved since the morning. Then his lips, full and warm against her own. His tongue pierced her mouth and tasted her, dragging and tickling her palette.

Her hands wandered around his waist towards his tight arse and instinctively she drew him closer to her. Their bodies touched and she felt the bulge of his pounding erection. She pushed herself even closer and began to shimmy up and down causing Matthew to shudder and moan in ever high vocal inflections.

Matthew seized the opportunity to take their love making further. She was clearly wet, ready for him. He put his fingers into her opened thighs and pushed her against wall as his lips tore into hers. She whimpered in delight.

"Lift up your arms," his voice a hoarse whisper. He felt them and grabbed both and pulled them up behind her. Using one hand he kept them there and with his other he continued to stroke her until she felt limp, unable to do anything but thrust herself towards his fingers to keep the sensations rising ever more irrepressible.

She felt a spiraling loss of control. His lips her hot on hers. She arched her back and lifted her legs in the air hardly knowing what she was doing. She just knew she had to keep the all-consuming thirst for an even more intense climax going.

Panting from the exertion of keeping her pinned against the wall Matthew released her slowly. Her arms came down but her legs still remained entwined around his arse. His body held her up, sweat soaked, his breaths coming in shallow and hot on her neck.

After a few seconds recovery Matthew lifted her up and carried her the few steps to the bed. He felt his way down with his mouth and tongue kissing, darting, and flicking all the curves and hollows of her body. Each breast was given special attention. He touched the nipples, felt them harden and peak. He kissed and sucked one then the other.

She gripped his thighs and, making her demand known, took him inside her. Sinking deep he plunged and bucked in thrusts of growing need. Her fingernails dug against his rear as she marked him body and soul.

The release when it came was met with her own. They writhed in mutual pleasure. Tingling, flooding sensations. A perfect moment they knew would never come again in quite the same way. He rocked back and forth sending even more shattering surges of utter ecstasy flow through Mary's body. Their sweat and heat mixed, she remained inside as he stroked her back until her breath became less feverish and steadier.

They let go and he fell down beside her on the covers.

After a few minutes recovery he leaned on his elbow and felt up her arm to shoulder, neck, chin, and cheek. He lifted the sash off her head and lay back down. She drew closer to him.

"Darling I hardly know what to say. That was extraordinary. Letting me share that with you…"

"I'm glad," Matthew said, reaching over to kiss her still enflamed cheek. "I hope I didn't hurt you when I pushed you against the wall. I don't know what came over me…"

"I know exactly what came over you," Mary teased. "And you can do that again and again…"

"Oh," Matthew's voice turning silky dark. "Then I shall."

They spent the rest of night in intermitted bursts of resting and making love until they were satisfactorily both satiated and exhausted.

A long, limbs entwined sleep followed. Neither wanting to let go of the other.

Only when daylight shone through the windows did Mary once again open her eyes. A light tap on the door followed. She looked over at her still sleeping husband. He was under all the covers, his head barely peeking out. He didn't move at all.

Mary got up and put on a nightgown and robe. "Come in."

Anna made her way inside with a large tray of breakfast items.

"Thank you, Anna," Mary said in a low tone to not wake up Matthew. "We'll ring later when we're ready to go out."

Anna nodded in understanding and left.

Within a few minutes of her departure Matthew woke up, smelling the aroma of coffee. He lifted his head from the covers and half opened his eyes.

"I knew that would wake you up," Mary said. "I've already poured you a cup. It's on the small table near the window. I put your dressing gown on the chair."

She believed she heard a mumbled "Thank you darling…" but knew far too well that Matthew would not be totally coherent until his first strong gulp of hot coffee.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. She brushed his arm and he leaned over and kissed her.

Mary switched places with him, returning to the bed but sitting up with the tray propped in her lap. Matthew, preferring to sit at a table to eat and drink, felt his way across the room to the chair next to the table. The green and gold patterned brocade robe with black quilted silk shawl collar had been a present from Mary on their first honeymoon at Crawley House.

Matthew put it on and tied the belt across his waist. He sat down and carefully felt for the saucer and then cup. He put the liquid to his lips and took a sip of the bracing expresso and then sat back in utter contentment.

Mary crunched on a delicious croissant. "Have I told you that by the time we get back Papa will have purchased a new horse or two for the start of the hunting season."

Matthew was not surprised by the news. He knew Mary was eager to get back to riding and he wasn't going to put off her excitement by pointing out it wasn't the best use of Downton finances. That would come later when they finally sank their teeth into the accounting books.

"Will the hunt be at Downton?" He asked instead.

"Not at first. Lord Beaton over in the North Riding usually has that honour. It might be quite soon. Next week possibly. Everyone's eager to start again."

"I will have to stay in London when we return," he reminded her. "I've my appointment with the Law Society to set up a time for my examination."

"Is it that soon?"

Matthew had told her of his desire to continue the career plan to become a solicitor by sitting for the requisite exam with the accommodation that he could, if necessary, take the test orally rather than written. There were a few other ex-soldiers at St. Dunstan's who had successfully either returned to their pre-war professions or taken up occupations ranging from chartered accountants to barristers.

"Not the test itself," he admitted. "I will have to study for that. But just to gather some information."

"And what did Harvill and Carter say?"

"I meant to tell you that I received a call from them right before we left. They said that they'd be glad to take me on as an articled clerk and that because of the new law that passed parliament to help out soldiers returning from the war my time in the regiment would be counted as part of the Legal Practice Course training. So I just need to pass the exam and I can start right away."

"That's wonderful." Mary said. She had been glad Matthew had finally settled on an occupation after debating about whether it would be best to return to Cambridge and take up the Tutor position that had been offered during the war. But he had sounded less than enthusiastic about it, seeing it more as charity on behalf of his old college rather than a lucrative career. Then he started investigating the possibility of fulfilling his desire to take up the law and, realizing it wasn't out of the realm of possibility, he settled on that.

"It'll be a challenge," Matthew said taking another sip of coffee. "But after reading Helen Keller's autobiography and all of her achievements, I've realized I've been entirely lacking in ambition. Ian Fraser is hoping to get her over to St. Dunstan's in the future as a guest lecturer."

Mary was so glad Matthew had found his feet at last. He seemed so much happier these past few weeks.

"Shall we take another plunge at the casino tonight? Perhaps we should try twenty-one or _chemin de fer_." Mary was eager to have another go at adding to their previous success.

Matthew, at first hesitated, but could do nothing else but give in. He nodded agreement and got up and walked over. He felt his way towards her side of the bed.

"Do you need your stick?" Mary asked, moving the tray to the other side in case she needed to get up to fetch his cane.

"My darling," Matthew leaned down and felt for her cheek. He moved his lips towards her and gave her a long, passionate kiss. "You are my stick."

XX

 _Hope you enjoyed the excursion to Cannes for our happy couple. Reviews are lovely gifts and I thank each and every one who reads, likes, reviews this story._


	27. Chapter 27

XX

 **October 1919**

The bedroom at Painswick House in London was quiet.

Mary's voice rose and fell as she took on the different voices of the Dickensian characters. But then she came to a particularly tricky passage and slowed down

" _The lawyers have twisted it into such a state of bedevilment that the original merits of the case have long disappeared from the face of the earth. It's about a will and the trusts under a will — or it was once. It's about nothing but costs now. We are always appearing, and disappearing, and swearing, and interrogating, and filing, and cross-filing, and arguing, and sealing, and motioning, and referring, and reporting, and revolving …"_

"Did you choose Bleak House just because of my renewed interest in the law?" Matthew asked with an attempt at a smile. "Jarndyce and Jarndyce certainly shows Dicken's disdain. The law is most certainly an ass in that case."

"Merely what was nearest on the bookshelves." Mary said drolly. "Though John Jarndyce's Growlery does seem like the kind of place you'd like back at Downton. Somewhere you could retreat."

Matthew lifted a tired eyebrow. "I wouldn't say no. Sometimes the house can seem very large. But I'm sure the sitting room you're organizing will suit our purposes."

"Do you want me to go on?" Mary marked the passage where she finished with her finger. "Or do you want to sleep?"

She noticed his eyes drifting shut.

He rubbed them to stay awake. "I don't really want to take any more laudanum as it makes me feel not at all myself."

Matthew lay on his back on the bed. In a reverse of their usual habit, he was the one listening to Mary's recitation. His headaches had returned with a vengeance. He had been told to expect this from time to time as the tumour settled once again around his optic nerve.

They had arrived back from Cannes a day previous with no indication of Matthew's trouble. They had a marvelous time in the south of France but were eager to get home and see George. Breaking up the travelling though was necessary and Mary wanted to do some shopping in London. So they were currently staying with her aunt at Painswick House. Matthew and Rosamund had come to a kind of uneasy truce. There still wasn't much love lost between them, but it was better. Rosamund had been proven right in her concern about Matthew's return of his blindness but she was also practical minded enough to know that now that her niece was married and a mother it was best to accept the situation. Matthew appreciated her tact and backed off his open animosity.

What had actually astounded the couple upon their entrance into Painswick House was Sir Richard Carlisle's Scottish burr emanating from the morning room.

Matthew's shoulders had slumped dejectedly. After the long train and ferry journey he wanted to do nothing else other than rest.

Mary turned in shock to her aunt. "What's he doing here?"

"I know what you're going to say. I always go for the rough diamond beaus." Rosamund put up a protesting hand. "But Sir Richard and I have decided to make a go of it. We're to be married in a few days."

"What happened to the other one?" Matthew blurted out. "The dodgy horse charity bloke?"

Rosamund gave a single cough. "We parted ways," responding with a practiced nonchalance. "Richard is my future now."

That was met with dead silence. Matthew clamped his mouth shut before he put his foot in it again with a retort or even worse another warning about choosing the wrong men.

They all still stood in the outer hallway, the younger couple unwilling to make a move towards the room where Carlisle resided.

Matthew's cane started to tap, the noise reverberating through the hall.

Mary knew her aunt wasn't to know about Matthew's history with Carlisle. The man who strong armed and extorted Lavinia. His disgust was palpable to Mary however. She could feel him shift uneasily from foot to foot. His guilt towards Lavinia had dulled but would never leave him. She also knew he would willingly pummel Carlisle into tomorrow given half the chance. For Lavinia. For the dismissive way he treated Lavinia's formerly blind fiancé. And the chilling possessiveness towards Mary.

"Come on…" Mary encouraged, taking her husband's hand. "There's nothing for it but to be polite."

"The man's an utter nightmare," he whispered tightly to Mary.

"I will make sure my aunt knows about him before this goes any further. But not right now."

Her husband nodded in understanding and squared his shoulders. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

And so they both were throughout the luncheon, making only the smallest of small talk and finally being rescued by the need to get ready for an evening party.

Matthew had grumbled about it but he knew this gathering was in aid of the Red Cross and they should make an appearance. He was working with the agency to contact ex-soldiers that could use the Swire Trust to help them acquire skills use ful in finding work.

London was still wary about large gatherings because of the flu but they all made their way to Grosvenor Square and the house of the Marquis of Hexham. They handed over their coats and hats at the entranceway. A few minutes later Matthew found himself alone with Carlisle. The two women had gone to put their joint offerings into the hands of the Red Cross volunteers.

Matthew leaned on his cane.

Richard was at first silent but then made an attempt at conversation. "I hear from Rosamund that you've opened a charitable trust yourself. From the money you got from Reggie."

It sounded so condescendingly snide to Matthew's ears.

Was he trying to taunt? Making it seem Matthew wrenched the inheritance from the old man's clutching hands as he lay dying.

Or Carlisle may just be trying to make polite conversation. Matthew thought again, but it still came across to him as reeking of insincerity. He simply couldn't be sure. This was where the ability of sight would be handy. To compare the voice to the facial expressions.

He'd have to wait for Mary's return.

"Yes." He answered simply. "It's to help give skills and find employment for blinded veterans."

"A worthy effort." Again the sotto Scottish burr could go either way.

No wonder he was a successful media baron. Carlisle could hold two completely divergent opinions at the same time and no one would know the difference.

At that moment Rosamund came back. He heard the distinctive click of her heels. Very smart. Very precise.

"Some acquaintances of Mary's have found her. They've not seen each other since their coming out in 1912." She said.

Matthew nodded restlessly. He really didn't want to be trapped in more painful conversation with Carlisle or Rosamund.

And then he felt reprieved by hearing Mary's quick, light step.

"Matthew." She called out.

He reached out to take her arm. He always felt such ease being around his wife.

"Come and meet some friends."

They walked towards what he could hear was a group of women's voices.

"Augusta, Grace…" Mary introduced. "This is my husband, Matthew Crawley."

The first woman took a second to respond to his outstretched hand. As with Carlisle it could just be a natural reaction. Unused to being around a blind person one is unsure about what to do. But it was awkward holding you hand out and having no one clasp it.

Finally she gave his hand a limp squeeze.

"I'm Augusta," she said in a tone that enunciated every syllable. "Lady Augusta Cavendish."

Matthew thought, I'm blind not hard of hearing. But it was something else he was getting used to again. People seemed to think if one had one affliction all your faculties were somehow faulty.

"How do you do. I'm very glad to meet you."

But she had already turned back to Mary and was commenting about other mutual friends in the room. "There's Eva. Isn't that gown divine? She's managed to get an appointment with Madame Bernard and I'm simply green with envy."

Mary could hardly get a word in edgewise, so Matthew left his wife to deal with Augusta and turned his attention to the other woman.

Grace was slightly friendlier, but also clearly shy as he held out his hand in greeting.

"Hello," she said, accepting his hand nervously. "Grace Ferndale. Mary and I had our debuts the same year but she captured the room. All heads turned to see her just like this evening…. Oh … dear. I'm sorry…You can't see her…"

She trailed off.

Matthew tried to put her at ease. "I'm sure you all look quite marvelous." He didn't even mention her faux pas about his blindness. She seemed very friendly and he wanted to encourage conversation.

"Are you married?"

"I… I was. He died of infection at a French field hospital in October of 1917."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I was at a dressing station at that same time. I remember seeing many wounded." He didn't go on as the descriptions of the men in agony would only upset her.

"You were in the war? I thought…"

"I went blind at 13 but regained my sight briefly in 1917. I volunteered for army service and worked mostly as an ADC for my regiment."

Grace's voice faltered. "I wanted to do more for the war but my mother wouldn't allow it. Especially after Frank died. I'm all she has."

Matthew recognized that sentiment. "Mothers are very protective."

At that moment Augusta swept back in and usurped the conversation without a care as to what the other two were saying. "Come Grace. I see my mama waving us over." Her clipped demand was not to be brooked.

She grasped Grace's arm. After the two women took a few steps away he heard Augusta voice in what he suspected was supposed to be a hushed tone to Grace, "how did you get on with the poor man? I feel so sorry for Mary. She puts on the brave face but it must be dreadful being no more than a glorified skivvy fetching and leading him everywhere."

Matthew was then jostled by some people in a hurry to get around a corner. They laughed and mumbled apologies.

He wasn't really surprised by Augusta's callousness. He had experienced much the same in the past.

He felt suddenly very alone.

Mary must have gotten caught by someone else as she still had not returned.

Matthew's head started to throb and he stumbled.

A voice from his left side said, "I say old chap. Do you need a chair?" The sound was friendly.

"Thank you."

A hand guided him to a chair.

"That better?"

"Yes." Matthew lied. He knew what was happening. His headaches had returned. The background noises suddenly became unbearable. The raucous laughter. The music.

But he knew the man was being kind and it made all the difference.

"Bertie Pelham." The man introduced himself. "My cousin is the Marquis hosting the event."

"Matthew Crawley." He held out his hand.

The two men shook.

"I see your wife making her way towards you. She's been waylaid by more than one unwanted admirer." Bertie said. "Our families know each other socially. Lord Grantham's been to my cousin's grouse shootings before the war."

Matthew tried to concentrate but the pain was getting worse.

He then felt Mary's arm grip his shoulder. "Darling…"

"I think I need to lie down." The room was spinning.

"Let me help…" Bertie reached out and Matthew allowed him to take his upper arm to help him up. He lurched a bit but grasped his cane firmly.

"I can walk if you guide me out." There was no way he was going to allow Augusta to see him weakened in Mary's presence.

With Mary and Bertie's help Matthew maneuver through the crowd. Once outside Bertie hailed a cab.

"I'll tell your aunt you've returned to Painswick House."

"Thank you Bertie," Mary said. "It was a good turn out for the Red Cross."

"Yes. Peter will be pleased."

Matthew heard the other man address him. "I hope you feel better. We should all get together at some time." He opened the cab door.

Matthew nodded and then felt for the door handle of the cab and got inside. He knew it was possibly impolite but he couldn't think straight enough to say anything.

Mary got in and sat down beside him. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there when this happened. I should have kept a closer watch."

Matthew squeezed her hand. His head was a whirl but one utter self-loathing thought kept rising to the surface. Augusta was right after all. He had made his wife into his caretaker and he was fooling himself to think otherwise.

They rode in the back of the cab without conversation and arrived back at Painswick House. Matthew took a tincture of laudanum and went to bed.

A few hours later he was awake and listening to Mary read _Bleak House_ and trying to sound his normal self. They had such a wonderful, such an intimate time in Cannes. A time he'd never forget. He didn't want some brainless aging debutante to ruin it with her callous chatter.

"I have decided to see Dr. Osbourne while we're here. Just to keep him in the loop. Then meet Joseph at St. Dunstan's before he travels to Downton for the gala opening."

Mary looked over at her husband. "Will you be up for all that?" She noticed his scowl but went ahead and said, "maybe you should put the gala opening off until you're better."

"Don't fuss." He shifted the covers on the bed.

Mary noted his sharpish tone but blamed it on the headache. "Very well," she answered. "I can stay a few more days and help you at the doctors."

Matthew heard her silent reproof in the words she didn't speak.

"I'd rather just go by myself." He was being stubbornly insistent. "One of us needs to be back at Downton with George."

Mary got up to put the book away on the shelf of the guest bedroom. "Will you stay here?"

She could see his pause before answering. His mouth opened and closed without speaking. She knew he wouldn't stay at Aunt Rosamund's home without her.

"No," he finally said. "I'll stay at my club."

Mary lay down in the bed beside him, feeling an unsettling distance which she tried to close by pressing her body next to his own.

Matthew needed to feel Mary even closer and wrapped his arms around his wife and they settled down to sleep. He kissed her cheek softly. "I'll be better in the morning, darling."

Mary closed her eyes, hoping that would be the case.

XX

"I think you should make an appointment with Dr. Macewan in Glasgow as soon as you can. These recent incidents might be nothing more than that result of your rash of recent activity. Once you settle back into a routine they might not return. But just to be sure see what the neurosurgeon says." John Osbourne said as he pushed his chair back away from the ophthalmoscope.

Matthew relaxed just a bit. The headache had subsided and he was feeling considerably better.

"I will." Matthew said as he put on his coat. "Thank you, Dr. Osbourne."

"Keep me informed." The doctor said as he handed Matthew his cane.

The two men walked towards the front entrance. Osbourne opened it and Matthew walked out the door and took the steps one down to the pavement. He stopped to listen to the traffic and try his hand at hailing a taxi cab. His dark glasses and cane the give away that the taxi driver would have to vocally announce his presence.

Once inside he gave the instruction to drive to Regent's Park. He needed to be caught up on preparations regarding the gala opening of Downton Hall, the Swire Trust's hostel and school for the employably blind. St. Dunstan's was organizing a train load of soldiers, nurses, and therapists to join the sixteen men chosen to be the first to live at the Hall on the Abbey estate. He needed to know the exact numbers to give to Gwen Dawson as well as know what equipment and accessories they were to bring to help fill the shelves of necessities at the Hall's dispensary and rehabilitation rooms.

He was glad for the need to concentrate on something other than they way he had left things with Mary. They had parted at the station before he set off to see the ophthalmologist. They were both subdued.

Matthew had not gone with her to the dressmakers saying he'd only be in the way.

He knew he was wrong. He knew Mary would say so anyway.

But the words of her friend kept ringing in his ears and he was determined never to even give the impression he kept Mary from living her own life.

The taxi dropped him off at the park. He walked the familiar path to St. Dunstan's. Once there he found his way first to Joseph's practice area by way of hearing the sharp ringing of the foils. He really wanted to get back to fencing but one thing after another kept putting it off. Now he recognized the doctor would oppose him taking it on today given his prescription of rest.

Instead he was there to confirm that Joseph would take the train with him in the morning back to Downton Abbey where he'd stay as their guest until the gala opening. Maybe they could get in some practice once in Yorkshire. Joseph had worked with the architects to design an area for fencing and other exercises to his specifications at the Hall. An outdoor cricket pitch was located just outside.

The more the plan for Downton Hall became a reality the more excited Matthew was becoming. An enduring legacy for the Swire family. A constructive way to channel his anger towards the uselessness of the war just fought. A way to serve his fellow soldiers so they would not be forgotten. To rebuild lives and train them for a better future.

"Joseph?" Matthew called out when he opened the door.

The clashing stopped. "Just give me until the end of this session."

"I'll be in the office then with Irene. We'll can go to lunch when you're done."

"Sam is here." Joseph informed. "He came in last night."

"I thought he was to take the train separately?"

"We went together to a show last night. He's been in town a few days." Joseph's voice was strained from the effort of talking while also continuing the fencing instruction.

"I'll let you get on," Matthew answered. "See you later."

He closed the door and walked the short length back to the main office. He hadn't known Joseph and Sam had become such good friends but that was a good thing. He wouldn't be able to spend much time with either of them once he began his law studies and he was glad they had each other.

"Irene?"

The young woman at the desk corrected him. "She's at a meeting, sir. May I help?"

"Thank you." He held out his hand to shake. "I'm Matthew Crawley. Irene said she'd leave me some paperwork to take with me back to Downton Hall in Yorkshire."

"Yes Mr. Crawley. She said to expect you. It's right here." And she handed him a folder.

"Thank you." Once he got the finalized inventory of the supplies being brought to the Hall he shoved it under his arm. He would deliver it in person to the new office manager and hoped it would be sufficient to Gwen's needs.

After a couple other meetings to confirm times and numbers he sat down to wait for Joseph.

They had a lunch at the nearby pub and then the two parted after Matthew declined joining his two friends at yet another show at the Gaity. He didn't want to get another headache and the music hall would be very loud.

He returned to the Army- Navy Club and put the inventory folder in his bag and turned in early.

After a restless night the dawn couldn't come soon enough. He missed Mary. His body ached to hold her. He missed George something terrible. How much had his son grown in the time he'd been away?

So as soon as Joseph met him out front in a taxi to take them both to Victoria Station he started counting down the hours to seeing his family again.

And he determined to throw off the gloom of London in the bracing Yorkshire air.

XX

At that same moment Mary poured a cup of coffee from the tray brought in by Anna. She was lying in for just a few minutes more. Along with the expectation of Matthew's return she was mulling over the fall out of her father going ahead and buying the two chestnuts from Jackson in Brompton in anticipation of the hunt that had been moved up to just a few days after the gala opening of Downton Hall.

Would Matthew approve of the use of estate money given the strain of taxes and insurance yet to be paid? Or had other concerns taken over his desire to comb the estate books for lapses in judgement?

Matthew had become quite preoccupied lately that was for sure. In London Mary had returned from her appointment with the dressmakers the morning after the Red Cross party to find Matthew had already moved his bags to his club and was seated on a bench at a small park across from Painswick House.

He had walked with her to the train station and kissed her lovingly good-bye. Told her to give a big hug and kiss to George and that he would follow within a day or two.

Nothing on the surface seemed out of the ordinary. She was glad he was restored to good health, the headache dissipating during the night.

But though he tried to appear otherwise, he was distant. Something had happened to shatter the bliss of Cannes.

Before she could try to pinpoint where it had changed there was a knock on the door.

Anna opened it and had a hushed conversation with a younger servant before closing the door again. "My Lady, there's been a telephone call from Strallan Hall."

Mary gasped. "Nothing wrong with Lady Strallan I hope?" Her sister was overdue with the baby and both she and her mother were on edge. If it hadn't been for Matthew's return she would have gone to see her. Cora was already there.

"It was your mother on the line." Anna was smiling. "Lady Strallan is in labour. The doctor says she's doing well but it's still slow progress. They've moved her to the village hospital at Malton. Lady Grantham wants you to meet her there if at all possible."

"I'll leave directly." Mary lifted off the breakfast tray and put it on the side table. She threw off the covers and got up. "When Mr. Crawley returns inform him of events. He'll understand. And if all goes well by the time we see each other we'll have a little nephew or niece to dote upon."

"And Master George a playmate cousin." Anna was already pulling out an overnight travel bag from the wardrobe.

Mary couldn't help but notice Anna surreptitiously wiping away a tear. "I'm so sorry Anna that you and Mr. Bates did not have children."

Anna stood up and nodded in gratitude. "It wasn't to be. I'll get your things together so you can take the 11:00 train."

Mary slipped on her robe before going over to the wardrobe to select a dress for the day.

Something comfortable, she thought. It might be a very long day if what the doctor said was true and Edith's labour was prolonged.

She would try to give as much comfort as she could. And hold her tongue even as she knew teasing her sister came as easy as breathing.

XX

"Robert." Matthew greeted his father in law with a handshake. "Where is Mary?" He had parted with Joseph at the new Downton Hall as he wanted to tour the new facility. Matthew walked the gravel path to the Abbey alone. He'd go by Crawley House later to see his mother and bring her to dinner with the family.

Now he wanted to see Mary.

He had been so looking forward to the reunion despite being only parted for two days. But he knew as soon as he arrived his wife was absent. She would have been the one to greet him in the salon.

The two men walked towards the library. Matthew feeling the way with steps and his cane.

They walked inside.

Robert turned a bright red. "She's with Edith. Her …uh… her…"

Violet finished what her son was too embarrassed to say. "She's in labour Matthew. Due any minute we hope. Your wife has gone to join Cora at the Malton hospital. We're all on tenterhooks waiting by the telephone."

"Yes…that." Robert finished rather lamely.

"You can talk about it you know. We're all family here." Violet despaired at her son's discomfit.

Matthew was disappointed. "I see." But he tried to sound supportive as well. "I'm sure Edith will pull through with flying colours."

A new voice interjected. "My cousin Sarah Jane's labour took two days so Mummy tells it. She screamed and screamed until no one could take it anymore. And even after all that the baby was ugly as sin. Daddy said…"

But at what Matthew could only guess was a glare to wake the dead from Granny Violet, the voice stopped awkwardly in mid-sentence. Unfamiliar to Matthew, he turned in the direction from where it came.

It was silvery and animated. She sounded young but also quite self-assured. Not at all like Mary's. But pleasant enough.

"This is the daughter of my niece, Matthew. Rose MacClare." Violet introduced. "Rose this is Mary's husband Matthew Crawley."

Matthew suddenly remembered he still had on his dark spectacles. He removed them and held out his hand.

"It's all rather bad timing," Robert said to his mother. "How can you take care of her without help? Cora is away. Mary has her own child…"

"I'm not that enfeebled." Violet protested. "I told Shrimpie I'd take her until he finished his work in London and they could travel back together to Scotland. Lady Flintshire is incredibly busy."

"Daddy works harder than a slave. Mummy manages everything by herself." Rose clasped Matthew's hand boldly.

"I doubt he works harder than a slave." Matthew couldn't help but retort.

Rose giggled. "You're right of course. I'm just a silly flibbertigibbet."

"Sit down and have some coffee."

"Oh I can't Auntie Violet. My mother doesn't approve."

Matthew heard Robert's frustrated sigh. It seemed the bright young thing was already grating on the older man's nerves.

I'm not sure what to do to fill my time." She edged closer to Matthew. "What would you suggest?"

She hardly seemed put out at all by his blindness, Matthew thought. His lips curled into a soft smirk. "You sound like just the kind of person who can do most anything they like."

"What gave me away?" She slipped her arm around his. "I tell what I would like to do." She started to whisper conspiratorially. "Could you take me back to London the next time you go?"

Matthew gave her a quizzical look. "Why?"

They sat down next to each other on the settee.

"I…uh … I have a friend there." Rose declared.

"A friend?" Matthew was already suspicious. "Then why can't you ask Cousin Violet to take you to visit?"

"He's not the kind of friend one asks …"

"Ah. The married kind perhaps?" Matthew figured out.

Rose answered quickly. "He's getting a divorce. His wife is horrid. Terrence says…"

Matthew tempered her rush of enthusiasm with the cold reality of truth. "Married men who wish to seduce young women always have horrid wives."

"You don't look like the stick in the mud kind." Rose's voice turned disparaging.

"And you don't sound like a ninny." Matthew shot back, arching one eyebrow. "So stop whatever it is you're planning and I will make sure not to tell Violet anything about it."

A long pause from Rose and then, "Deal."

Matthew smiled again. "Why don't you join me upstairs in the nursery. I will introduce you to our son George. I've not seen him in quite awhile and I'm eager to hold him in my arms."

"I'd love that." Rose stood up.

Matthew did so as well and took her arm.

She cosied up to him. "I have a feeling we're going to be friends forever."

Matthew couldn't help but be buoyed by her enthusiasm. It would make the time away from Mary a bit bearable to have someone new around.

They left the room and made their ways to the staircase.

XX

 _Ah that Rose…_

 _I hope you enjoy reading. Reviews are love. Thank you. I will get back to the new story (I Carry Your Heart) and I appreciate all the kindness that first chapter received. But this story still has my heart right now and I'm eager to keep working on it as well._


	28. Chapter 28

XX

"That should be all you need." Matthew handed over the inventory list.

The young woman took it. "If you don't mind my saying…" Gwen Dawson perused the list. "You know nothing Mr. Crawley."

Matthew heard the slight shift from the standardized English she used in professional settings to the rounded inflection of a girl from the Yorkshire Dales. He had to laugh at her obviously well intended gibe. "I'm sure I don't Miss Dawson," he threw back. "But I'm perfectly informed that you know everything."

Gwen joined in the laughter. "I wish I did, sir. There's so much still to do. I'm glad we have the extra time."

The two were standing in the front office of the Swire Trust now permanently located at Downton Hall on the Abbey estate. She had proven to be a wonderful asset. The Downton Hall chairman Trevor Sanderling had said he wouldn't have been able to finish in time for the opening without her wizard like powers of organization.

Matthew said, "I told Trevor that I can be used as a general dogsbody next Saturday for whatever he needs from me." The gala opening had been pushed back because Sir Arthur Pearson couldn't get out of committee meetings with the government and attend the opening of Downton Hall until the following week end.

"Joseph is here though, correct?"

"Yes. He's already working with some of the residents who've moved into the hostel."

Matthew had to smile. He'd lost track of Joseph the previous day and it turned out he had stayed the night in one of the empty rooms near the courtyard.

Gwen shuffled some papers on the desk. "I'm sure we'll need everyone on hand for emergencies on the day but for now it's just a matter of getting the whole to be the sum of all its parts if you will."

"It's going to be well worth it. I'm glad we can offer the northern counties some after care services. Ian has told me St. D's is full to bursting with over 1500 names on their books."

"And that's taking out the scroungers and malingerers as he calls them, just trying to find free bed and board." Gwen tapped and straightened the papers while she spoke.

Matthew grimly agreed. "We've spoken at length about how to spot them. Ian's heart breaks when he has to turn down someone not blind enough because of lack of space much less someone just wangling for a disability pension. Though I have to say it's most probably an act of desperation as there are simply not enough jobs for veterans."

The telephone rang. "Excuse me." Matthew heard her address the person on the other end as "Matron" and confirm that the dispensary would be finished and stocked within the week. She hung up and finished her initial thought. "The residents are ready to move in. The builders are putting the finishing touches on the hostel and classrooms. Your inventory confirms that St. Dunstan's will bring the last of the teaching tools and supplies. So as my Pa is fond of saying 'nowt to do now but get thee on with it.'"

Matthew tipped his hat. "Then I shall let you do so and get out of your way and say good-bye." He had his hand on the door.

Before he left, she had one more question. "Lady Edith is recovered then?" Gwen asked using Edith's old title by mistake. "I mean Lady Strallan? Is it a boy or girl?"

Matthew had forgotten than Gwen had been a housemaid at Downton before taking up her secretarial jobs and was naturally concerned about a family member. "She is fully recovered I'm told. Exhausted but happy with her little boy. They've named him after Anthony."

"I'm very glad to hear that. Thank you."

Matthew waved and left the office.

Matthew strolled down the flagstone walk outside of Downton Hall, stopping when he felt the track drop off with his cane. He turned left because he knew the drop meant the paved portion ended and became a gravel footpath. If he then walked straight the path would take him directly back to the Abbey. It had been designed for ease of access especially for Matthew to make his way back home.

Having said he'd be back within the hour Matthew picked up his pace while carefully extending the cane to feel for the first stone step up towards the Monk's garden at Downton. He had arranged with Robert and Carson to use the back French doors whenever he needed to get over to the Hall. He liked the freedom that gave him to come and go as he pleased.

Matthew stopped when he unexpectedly breathed in a burning sensation. The kind associated with cigarettes he and fellow soldiers would have in the mess. He had long since given them up.

Who was smoking?

There was a rustling sound and then, "Hello Matthew."

Rose must be seated on the stone bench just off the Monk's garden. He noted the dejected tone as he turned towards her voice. Not like Rose at all he had learned in the short time knowing her. Matthew had begun to believe Rose lived in an eternal state of breathlessness commentary about nothing in particular.

Was she longing for London again?

Matthew felt for the foot of the bench with his cane and then reached down with his hand to help guide his body into a seated position next to Rose.

"You're not planning an escape are you?"

She fidgeted a bit and then gave a sigh. "I wish. I'm not looking forward to returning to Scotland. My mother is always after me." Rose's voice rose to imitate her mother. "'Do stand up Rose. You're slouching like a field hand.' Ugh.. I won't have five minutes without being criticised."

The odor was gone from the air. She must have squashed the cigarette as soon as she saw him approach. He did still smell it on her breath.

"She's impossible."

"And you give her no reason?" He leaned in and crinkled his nose.

"You won't tell will you?" She gripped his hand dramatically. "It helps with my nerves."

Matthew smoothly extricated his fingers away from the younger woman. "I promise I won't tell. You might want to have a peppermint before Cousin Violet gets wind though."

She giggled, suddenly happy again. "I will." She stood up and they to walk side by side towards the house.

Matthew would usually take the arm of Mary or his mother to help guide him into the house but he restrained from making a move towards Rose. He could be wrong as it was difficult to assess non-visual cues but he was getting the distinct impression she was developing a crush on him. While he felt flattered if that was the case, he knew he would have to tread carefully.

Rose asked, "Why are you helping me?"

Matthew wanted to say it was because she was very young and very sheltered and didn't know much at all about life. Instead he said, "I'm on the side of the downtrodden."

Rose reached for the handle of the French doors leading into the library. "Thank you for being so kind."

Matthew heard the squeak of the door handle and knew to feel with his cane for the step up to the house. He paused. "If you're feeling a bit bored here I might have a suggestion."

He heard an impulsive gasp and then, "Do you need some assistance? You get around so well on your own I forget you're blind!"

He stepped aside quickly, not wanting her to reach for his arm but then realized he probably offended her. This was quickly becoming a muddle of mixed signals.

"Oh gosh …. did I put myself in it? Daddy's always telling me I get the wrong end of the stick… I…I only meant I …I'm sorry…."

She was about to babble again so Matthew stopped her. "No. You did nothing wrong," he tried to reassure. "I just prefer to do things on my own." He then changed the subject back to what he wanted to say. "I do need help with something else. I am going to be swotting for the solicitor's exam and I need someone to help me with the study questions. I registered with the Law Society the other day in London to sit for the test in mid-November."

He wasn't at all sure Rose would be up for the tedium of studying legalese but it would keep her out of trouble. And he wanted to get this phase of his legal training out of the way.

"When do we make a start?"

Matthew gave it a quick think. "Tomorrow? I want to begin my clerkship at Harvill and Carter in January so I really do have to get going."

Rose giggled merrily. "I'd love to do anything to help the defender of the downtrodden."

Matthew gave her a half smile. "Good. Let's go find the rest of the family. I'm eager to get over to Strallan Hall."

Carson was lifting a tray from the small table in front of the settee and heard the door close behind the couple entering from the French doors.

"Good morning, sir, My Lady. Mrs. Crawley and Her Ladyship are in the saloon awaiting your return."

"Thank you, Carson." Matthew followed Rose through the library, making his way carefully around the objets d'art in the library, always feeling the butler's eagle eyes made sure he didn't come close to any family treasures. He remembered with shame how high hat he had gotten with Joseph when his friend accidently broke the vase the day before the wedding. But at the time his mortification cloaked more complicated emotions. Joseph always carried off his blindness with aplomb, as if to say 'this is who I am. Take me or leave me alone.' Something Matthew was never able to master when blind and came out as small-minded when sighted.

Matthew knew he was jealous of Joseph's easy manner. He would still get prickly and easily offended, witness the event at the Red Cross party. He didn't want to admit that Augusta's remarks got under his skin because he knew better. And yet they had. Not necessarily the disparaging tone or dismissive attitude but the suggestion that he was an albatross around Mary's neck. That stuck with him. When they were next alone he intended to talk with her about his concerns. He knew she'd deny it but he wanted to talk it out anyway.

He missed his wife terribly, feeling completely out of sorts without her.

The sooner they reunited the better. Gripping his cane Matthew walked through the library to the saloon.

Violet was seated in an armchair but stood up upon hearing the voices from the library. Matthew's mother was already standing near the outer entryway and walked over to her son.

Isobel touched his hand. Matthew said, "Hello Mother. Are we all ready? Cousin Violet?"

"Yes, yes my boy. I'm here. Hodgkins is out front. I think I will need a blanket with this chill in the air."

Carson walked ahead to make sure the chauffeur heeded the dowager's wishes. Robert was already outside, pacing.

"I can't wait to see little Anthony. I do hope he's cute." Rose said, linking arms with Matthew. "I don't want to have to tell a fib."

Isobel took note of Rose's bold move but said nothing as Matthew didn't seem in the least interested in the younger woman's actions but was more indulgently allowing her to commit the faux pas. It was usually the blind person who took the arm of another rather than the other way around.

"The Chinese have a proverb. 'There is only one pretty child in the world, and every mother has it.'" Isobel said.

"George certainly is the most adorable baby in the world," Matthew added, "But then I'm completely biased. Florence said just this morning he was starting to babble words proving he's not just adorable but precocious."

"Anything intelligible?" Violet asked with a touch of humour in her voice.

"No…" Matthew had to admit with a broad grin. "But I'll be sure to tell Mary he said "Da da" just to coax her home so she can teach him "Ma ma" as she's ever so competitive."

His mother walked beside Matthew and Rose.

"I'm very glad to have you back." Isobel had been unable to make the family dinner the previous night due to commitments to her charity work. "How did you get on in London?"

"I sit for the solicitor's test November 22," he informed his mother.

"That's wonderful." She knew her son wanted to get on with his career plan. "What about Scotland?" Isobel also knew he had been to see the ophthalmologist.

Matthew mentally added that to the list of things to do. "Osbourne said I should go just to have an initial exam but he doubted there was anything Macewan could do for me."

"I see." Isobel accepted her son at his word. He knew she would want the brutal truth.

Matthew let go of Rose's arm and waited for her and his mother to step in the car. He held onto the Rolls Royce's door and lifted himself inside to sit down on the right side. Robert and Isobel sat beside him with Violet and Rose opposite.

Hodgkins started the motor of the Rolls Royce and they set off for Strallan Hall and arrived in good time.

XX

"The family should be here very soon." Mary apprised her sister and mother. They were in the day nursery, Anthony was asleep in the cot. Cora was seated by the window.

"I've told Laidlaw to bring everyone to the morning room. I'll be down with Anthony when he wakes up." Edith lovingly peeked over the side of the cot. "He's had a fitful night." She was still very wan in appearance.

Cora had been watching her daughter carefully since their return from the hospital the evening before. Edith had a hard birth but had been recovering nicely according to Dr. Bowen. "Why don't you go rest?" Cora said. "Mary and I will go down and make excuses. You need sleep."

Edith started to protest but at Mary's encouraging nod she agreed. "Give them all my love." Tears started to form at the sides of her eyes. She wiped them away. She was trying to be brave but she missed her husband so much. "Anthony would have loved to show him off to everyone."

"He's here," Cora said quietly. "In all our minds and spirits."

Edith gave her mother a loving smile. "Yes. Yes he is."

After seeing Edith back down the hallway to her bedroom, Mary and Cora moved downstairs to the morning room.

Within a few minutes Laidlaw announced the car from Downton had arrived. Robert was the first inside. He went to stand next to Cora after glancing around the room. "Where's Edith?"

"She's returned to bed," Cora answered. "Nurse Abbott will be down with little Anthony in a few minutes after she changes his clothes."

Mary strolled over to greet the family. Her grandmother walked in with Isobel. Matthew followed behind with a young woman who must be Rose MacClare. She knew Violet had a house guest from Scotland whom she had never met when they visited Duneagle. She hovered near Matthew who crooked his head in a move Mary had begun to recognize since his recurrent blindness.

He was trying to find her by fixing on her voice or her footstep. She walked towards him and was rewarded by seeing his face instantly brighten.

"Darling…" Matthew whispered the endearment as she reached for his hand and brushed her cheek against his own. He knew she was always so formal in public settings and wouldn't approve any further display of open affection but his whole being ached to hold her. To kiss her lips, her mouth. But he did not. He hoped she appreciated his restraint later when he told her of his desires.

For now, he made introductions. "Mary this is Rose. She's your… granny's great niece which makes her your…ummm…?" He paused trying to work out this family's complicated genealogy.

"Second cousin," Rose piped in. "Mummy drilled it in my head before I arrived."

Matthew's eyebrows furrowed. "You don't know each other, right?"

Mary shook her head to confirm her husband's suspicion. And then realized he couldn't see her gesture. "No, we've not met."

"How do you do! I've simply ached to know you." She stuck her hand out. "I was always stuck away at school in Switzerland when you came for the shooting."

Mary could see Rose attempted to be poised but was still clearly in that gangly, awkward phase of late adolescence.

She accepted the handshake. "I hope you're settling in with Granny."

"She's such a dear. And Matthew here has been keeping me entertained." Rose giggled and reached over to give his arm a squeeze. Then almost immediately her attention was drawn to the door way where the nurse appeared holding Anthony in an attractive hand knitted blanket.

"Rose." Violet called her over. "Come see the baby." The younger woman rushed over to not make her aunt wait.

Mary and Matthew finally had a moment alone.

"I think you've found a friend." Mary slyly observed.

Matthew gave his wife a shrewd side eye. "She keeps me on her toes." And then laughed. "She's exhausting really but also lot of fun."

"That's more that can be said here. Edith is driving me mad," Mary said talking through gritted teeth.

"What's she doing?"

"Nothing that's just it. And I know she's been through a lot." She was trying to whisper so as not to draw attention to herself. "I'm supposed to be full of sisterly affection but I'm just not cut out for this. I can talk babies for only so long…"

At a surprised glance from Matthew she reassured her still besotted-by-their-son husband, "I mean I love and adore our George of course. But debates about whether Nurse should change Anthony's nappy every two hours or three?" She shook her head. "I mean really? Allow the woman do her job and let's go have some tea."

Matthew chuckled. "You'll be released soon enough."

"Hopefully by the week end."

"Oh?"

"We've been invited for the hunt. It's been moved up to take advantage of the weather which is perfect as your telephone call last night said the Hall opening has been postponed."

"It has," Matthew acknowledged. "I didn't know about the hunt however."

Mary sensed his displeasure. "I was going to tell you when we returned to Downton later but on Thursday we're to go to Braxton Priory. The usual hunt crowd will be there. Some of the people you met in London."

Matthew was uninspired by that information. And put out he wasn't consulted. "So Robert bought those horses?"

Mary could see his failed attempt to hide his growing consternation. "He told me while you were in London. It really was quite a steal. Fowler will bring the hunters around tomorrow so I can get a feel for which one to ride before the hunt."

Her husband's lips tightened. He could hear his wife's keen excitement. She could not wait to get back riding. He didn't want to be a wet blanket. But he had to decline joining her at the weekend. "Darling I can't possibly go. I've arranged to sit for the solicitor exam next month. I have to start boning up on these legal definitions they gave me at the Law Society. It's going to take all my time."

"They're going to let you take it verbally?"

"The chair baulked at first but when I said I would take the written test but it would need to be translated into Braille and I'd have to bring in my own writing board to complete it, he agreed to give the test orally."

What Matthew didn't say was that he was sure his status as heir to the earldom of Grantham played a not so subtle role in Sir Christopher's ready acquiescence. That would usually have put Matthew off as he hated any kind of special treatment. But if it greased the wheels and opened the doors to other St. Dunstaner's taking the solicitor's exam without being summarily dismissed because of their handicap he'd go along.

"I've asked Rose to help with the studying."

Mary was secretly relieved she wouldn't be roped in to help. She was all for Matthew's pursuit of this solicitor's licence but knew she'd be bored to sobs if forced to partake. Academics was never her strong point.

"Will she be up to it?" Mary doubted Rose would fit the bill either. She seemed quite fond of meaningless chatter and end up getting on Matthew's nerves.

Matthew had to concede, "Violet wants to keep her out of trouble so it seemed like a good idea. We'll see how it goes."

"I don't know if Violet and Rose want to join us but I'm sure you can find some time to squeeze in studying while we're there." Mary conjectured. "Plus there will be the ball on the last night with everyone in the county in attendance."

Matthew was about to protest when she told him, "Mama needs me." Cora was motioning for Mary's attention. "We'll talk more about this later when we're back home." She clasped his hand then released it and walked away.

He sighed and let her go.

There was no way he could waste any time by going to Braxton Priory. He had to memorize an entire dictionary of definitions as well as two volumes on legal history to prepare for the exam. With the sole exception of the gala opening of Downton Hall he'd be doing nothing else than studying for it as he wanted to pass on the first go around.

He honestly thought purchasing expensive thoroughbreds simply for useless aristocratic pursuits to be the height of folly given Downton's financial straits.

Mary would tut tut and say that was because he did not ride or hunt. Which was true but without his sight he admitted to himself he would ache something fierce to see Mary looking magnificent astride her hunter sprinting confidently across the headlands.

And he did not know how to dance. During the war it had not ever manifested itself, but now that the war was over more and more of these social gatherings would include ballroom dancing. Mary knew that as well and wouldn't expect him to participate but just to circulate the room with her.

Like the Red Cross event in London where he felt on display as nothing but a well-heeled burden. Someone Mary loved like one would a child or a pet. It set his teeth on edge. He wouldn't do that again.

Standing near the window at Strallan Hall Matthew began to tap his cane methodically on the hardwood floor. He didn't want to give into the frustration he was beginning to feel. The sense of hopelessness about being seen in this world determined to sideline those that made them feel uncomfortable.

He heard the air explode into a fit of giggles and knew Rose was talking a blue streak leaving the listener in her wake.

And then a thought suddenly popped into Matthew's head. Rose would be here for another fortnight. Maybe…just maybe they could squeeze in time between the studying to do something else.

Something that would surprise Mary and make his mark on society they'd never forget.

A smile replaced the frown. The cat who got the cream kind of smile snuck across Matthew's face. His mood did a complete about turn as the plan took shape.

He couldn't wait to get started.

XX

"Little Anthony is such a darling," Isobel observed as the family gathered around the dining table back at Downton that same evening. "I do hope Edith recovers her strength."

"Mama wants to make sure she doesn't over do it so she's staying on for another couple of days." Mary said, secretly glad she able to escape back to Downton.

"Will you go to the stables tomorrow?" Robert asked. "Fowler's confirmed their arrival."

"Oh goody…" Mary said. Both father and daughter were unable to hide their excitement about the hunt on the week end.

Isobel couldn't quite understand the appeal. "Chasing innocent foxes around the countryside doesn't seem all that fair really. And then they get fed to the dogs?"

"Hounds not dogs," Robert pedantically corrected. "And yes. The hounds are cast into the coverts where the foxes lay up and if they pick up the scent they will track and kill the foxes. If the foxes go to ground it could take some time. We sometimes have to flush them out with guns."

Isobel was unfazed. "Wasn't it Oscar Wilde who said, 'the English country gentleman galloping after a fox' is 'the unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable.'"

Robert tried to resist groaning at that old saw. "Foxes are quite a nuisance you know. And it's a key part of life around here. About time we got back to normal."

"Still seems quite barbaric to me," Isobel concluded. "I'd much rather just take a walk and enjoy the countryside."

"That is the thing about nature: there is so much of it," Granny smoothly countered. "We can all enjoy it to our own requirements."

"You're just saying that to sound clever."

"Yes, I know. You should try it." Granny had to riposte.

"Oh…" Isobel started again but Matthew intervened before his mother completely dug herself into it further with the dowager. "I'm sure it's quite good enough to agree to disagree Mother. We all have our points of interest."

Isobel understood her son's diplomacy. "Of course." She changed the subject. "What about your own event? When is this gala opening?"

"Next Saturday," Matthew answered relieved his mother got the not so subtle hint. "Weather permitting it will be outside on the green. If it rains then inside in the courtyard. We're expecting several dignitaries from London. The founder of St. Dunstan's Sir Arthur Pearson of course, but also perhaps the Chancellor of the Exchequer Austen Chamberlain."

"We'll make sure Hodgkins is available to drive your guests from the station to the grounds of Downton Hall," Robert said. "It's quite an achievement my boy. A proud day for us all."

"Thank you, Robert." Matthew replied, astonished at the older man's kind words. They so seldom had anything like that lately. "I hope it will be."

After dinner the family retired early. Mary and Matthew poked their heads into the nursery before retiring to see George for one last time for the night. He was fast asleep in his cot.

Mary guided Matthew's hands towards their son's cheek. He gently touched the soft skin and murmured a "good night."

On their way out, he couldn't resist saying, "tomorrow you'll hear him say "dada" for yourself and then you'll see…"

Mary indulged him as he had been so blue all day. "I'm sure you're right."

He gave her a puckish grin that delighted her. Maybe his mood was improving. She had been worried that his funk from earlier that day would continue. He had been out of sorts since their return from Cannes. Whether it was the headaches, the change of plans for the week end, or the purchase of the horses without his input she wasn't sure.

But he was still smiling as he sat down in his accustomed spot next to her night table after putting on his night clothes and dressing robe.

"Your mother is quite feisty," Mary remarked. "She and Granny love to exchange barbs."

"She won't ever be put down in a fight," Matthew laughed.

"Neither will Granny Violet. We can look forward to more I'm sure."

"Oh yes."

"I'm glad to see your own mood has lightened. Is that because the headaches haven't reoccurred?"

Matthew nodded. "That…" He reached his hand out for her to take. "And you're home. I missed you last night. Sleeping alone in our bed for the first time. Not something I want to do again."

She took his hand and he pulled her into his lap.

They kissed.

She laid her head in the curve of his neck. "I missed you too."

They sat quietly curled up in each other's arms, taking the time just to be together.

"I'm sorry I've been out of sorts lately. I let some comments get to me at that Red Cross event that I know better and I've let it affect my mood."

"What were they?"

He shook his head. "It makes no matter."

"Is that why you don't want to go to the Priory?"

Matthew didn't answer.

"I'll stay home if you want." Mary conceded, not liking how his face turned sad once again.

"No. No.." he whispered in her ear, pulling himself together again. "I won't hear of it. You must fully enjoy yourself. I will expect you to give a full accounting of the quarry and how the new hunter performs. If we are going to do this, I hope it's towards money well spent."

Mary knew that was a deep concession for Matthew. She buried herself into his shoulder again.

"You will join me for the ball at least?" She hoped. "It's on the last night of the hunt. You must come."

She sounded so forlorn he had to give her a hint of the surprise he planned. The plan that would be hatched starting tomorrow. He had already asked Rose and she had readily accepted his request.

"Of course I will come," he said, adding "indeed I wouldn't miss it for the world."

His enigmatic smile intrigued Mary. "Why?" She could hardly believe he'd be that interested in a gathering of old society friends talking hunting jargon.

You'll see in good time." He smiled again and slipped his hand up her shoulder and neck towards her cheek. Pulled her face in for another kiss. And all talk ceased as they moved to the bed and made love.

They fell asleep, exhausted and in each other's arms.

XX

"Matthew…" Rose's voice brimmed with impatience. "You lead with your left… Slow …quick… quick…"

He stomped on her toes again. "Damn…er…sorry…"

"Let's start again."

XX

 _So we'll leave it there…_ _Ball to follow. Thank you to everyone who had read, followed, liked this story. Reviews are love._

 _I couldn't resist that opening Gwen line because of her well-known doppelgänger haha… I also used a line from a totally obscure but beloved by me Granada mini series Flambards on hounds and hunting._


	29. Chapter 29

_A bit M near beginning of chapter_

XX

Matthew lay on his back on the carpeted floor of the day nursery. He turned his head towards the sound of his son's bright burbling. George was using all kinds of vocalizations these days making his father extremely happy as he could more easily follow his son's progress crawling around the room playing and occasionally throwing various toys much to the chagrin of the nursery maid Florence. He could also hear her quick footfalls as she followed in his son's wake, gently tutting admonitions. "Master George should not fling bunny across the room."

"He's just testing our patience," Matthew laughed.

"Aye…" Florence said. "That he is, sir. But Nanny says Master George needs to learn his manners early as he's to become lord of the manor."

Matthew furrowed his brow. "That's quite a lot to put on a little baby."

Florence smiled. "He's a little cheeky monkey is this one. I suspect he'll be bossing us all around for a long time to come."

Matthew tried to answer but got distracted as George took the opportunity and crawled right onto his father's stomach, sat upright, and started to thump on it with his chubby hands. His mouth opened and a stream of "ah! Ah! aH! AHHHs!" came out in time to his drumming.

Florence had gotten used to Mr. Crawley showing up at odd hours of the morning to be with his son before getting on with the day. He'd poke his head inside asking if George was awake. If he was then Matthew would take his cane and guide himself towards the window seat. But he wouldn't sit on the cushioned seat, the blindness making him also unconventional in his approach to play time. He'd always get down on the floor to be at George's level and allow the child to crawl over and around his body.

Matthew looked blissfully unaware of how incongruous, if not to say wholly inappropriate, it looked for the heir to the earldom of Grantham to be lying on the floor as a ten-month-old screamed at the top of his lungs while tapping on his torso.

Instead he beamed with utter delight. A smile that challenged the sun in its brilliance lit up his face.

Matthew reached out tentatively at first and then with more confidence clasped George in his arms and held the baby up high imitating flying, making the child squeal even more with delight.

Florence could be heard in the distance putting some toys away in a wooden box.

Matthew appreciated the maid's forbearance at his interruptions to the nursery schedule. But he knew he didn't want to neglect any chance to find time with his son. Once George started to crawl Matthew had realized how much he could potentially miss out on seeing George explore his world. It had brought again the feelings of self-pity he was trying to conquer. There were days he just couldn't help it and gave in privately to bouts of depression. But he wasn't fooling his wife at all by withdrawing to their newly furbished sitting room and pretending to read at the desk one of the ever growing number of books in Braille now located at Downton Hall. Mary would see the signs coming on but allow him the time to recover on his own.

He appreciated and loved her all the more for it.

Now when he felt the mood descend he would also make his way to the nursery and spend a few minutes with George. Nothing was more guaranteed to cheer him up.

Well… Matthew admitted with a sly smile to himself. Almost nothing else.

This particular morning had started with a mad love making session after Mary had modeled her new riding habit she was to wear on the hunt over the week end. They had groped and slipped towards the bed in their haste. Matthew spent as much time removing the riding trousers, boots, and jacket as he had done approving the tight fit on Mary's body.

"Will you be riding astride?" He asked in between tickling her lips with his own. "I can see it in my mind's eye…"

The kiss deepened.

"And what do you see?" Mary teased.

"You keen eyed, bending headlong, rising up in the saddle and then pushing forward in perfect time with the horse to take the fence with ease…"

"Have you ever been to a hunt?"

"No…" Matthew admitted still nuzzling her bottom lip. "But I have a wild imagination."

She laughed as he started to undress her.

The boots had come off first. His hands felt the cool leather down to the heel as he slipped each of them off. They were shorter than he anticipated. The twill fabric beneath reached down to her ankles.

"They're jodhpurs," Mary informed her husband. "I've only ever worn breeches but these are so loose in the hips I will glide over every fence."

"You could have fooled me…" Matthew said, his hands admiring the clinging way the material shaped the rounded curve of her derriere.

He felt up her arms towards her shoulders, taking each sleeve of the wool riding jacket off slowly, feeling the soft silken blouse underneath.

The necktie was next. "I'm not used to slipping a tie off a woman…" Matthew's hands undid the knot at her neck and loosened the buttons underneath. He slid it all the way off her neck. A smile crept over his face.

"What is it?" Mary asked, noticing how his cheeks had flushed.

His mouth puckered mischievously. "A bit early in the day for what I'm thinking…" He licked his lips.

Mary's eyes fluttered closed as he started kissing along the nape of her neck. "Tell me anyway."

"There are all sorts of things one can do with a neck tie a part from tying it around one's neck." His mouth was hot on her throat.

"Such as…" Her words a bit breathless.

He held the tie loosely in his hands. "One could fasten it around a pair of slim wrists for example…"

Mary's body weakened under his ministrations. "Hmmmm… Quite bold…"

"Says the woman who agreed to wear her dress sash as a blindfold." He held it up. "What do you say?" One eye cocked provocatively. "Should we try it?"

"Absolutely!"

Mary slipped off the rest of her clothing as Matthew did the same. On the bed Mary handed Matthew the silk tie and turned around so he could snake his hand down her arm and bind her wrists together. He kissed each wrist and the soft palm of her hands.

"Turn around…"

"Oh no …" Mary took charge. She made him lie back and got on top of him. She told him to use his hands to feel for her arms. Use them to guide him back so he could feel the silk ties around her wrists. Then the rounded form of her arse. Matthew groaned as he took his fingertips and skimmed them up and down her body. The binding around her back made her body thrust forward and he could feel the pointed peaks of her nipples against his cheeks. He sucked each one in turn.

She started to rock back and forth on his lower abdomen. "I can show you how I ride astride…" Mary tantalized him by rubbing against his erection. Matthew swallowed and grunted hard as she pushed inside. He lifted up, grabbing her shoulders, and kissed her hard, their teeth gnashing as his tongue thrust inside against her palette. They bucked and rocked until each came in sweet ecstasy.

Falling back onto the rumpled sheets Matthew reached around carefully and released the tie. "You are magnificent," his breath hoarse from the heat of their shared exertion.

"Something to remember me by when I'm gone over the week end." Mary pulled on a loose forelock back over his head. "Are you sure you don't want to come to the ball?" She tried to sound pouty but after that heady love making session even she couldn't make it sound real.

"I… I have too much on." Matthew lied. He tried to remind himself it was only a small fib. And the surprise when he showed up ready to lead her onto the dance floor would be well worth it. Indeed Rose was expected within a few hours to get on with their lessons. It would be easier as a matter of fact with Mary out of the house. The noise from the gramophone wouldn't raise suspicions in his wife as to why he wasn't continuing his law studies.

Mary gave the stubborn lock one last tug and kissed him. "I must get Anna back in. What will she think of us? I only intended to stop her packing for a few minutes while I modeled the new habit."

"A scandalare for sure…your reputation will be in ruins…" Matthew's lips twitched waggishly. "I think I'll have some more…"

A stifled squeal of delight escaped Mary's lips as he twisted her back onto the bed and threw the covers over both their heads.

XX

Mary listened with patience to Lady Newberry's story about the reading of the lesson at church the previous Sunday. She was an old dear, well into her 80s, but dreadfully dull. Having arrived perfectly on time she had been greeted warmly by Lord and Lady Beaton alongside Robert and Cora.

"And where is Mr. Crawley?" Frank Russell, Lord Beaton asked and nodded ever so faintly with a look of reprieve in Mary's eyes to her stating Matthew's regrets that other business kept him away from the hunt week end. She was glad Matthew didn't have to endure those looks and glances of relief at not having to deal with the blind man. But she was fooling herself she also realized. He knew the not so subtle cut at the edge of a remark that sounded polite but was masking a mere obligatory interest and a curt dismissal.

She tried not to hover or be overly protective as he hated that as well. It was like a dance, knowing when to glide right or turn on your heels or allow him to change partners. She couldn't do everything and still remain his wife. As Irene Fraser had said to her "we're not their caretakers. Nor do they expect us to be."

Mary had taken Irene Fraser aside one of the times they had visited Downton Hall in preparation of the gala opening. She confided about Matthew's bouts of depression. Irene, also married to a man blinded after reaching adulthood, reassured her that "it was quite healthy Matthew acknowledge his 'bad periods' as Ian might say and have the freedom to work it out for himself. So many times meaningful relations force the handicapped to keep it inside because others feel uncomfortable or they don't understand." She continued, "you see they all walk this bridge between the old world of sight and the new world of accepting their blindness. Sometimes they take a few steps back into the dark of self-pity, but very soon they rally. Matthew will do the same. The love he has for you, your child, the work at the Swire Trust, these are things that will give him strength."

Mary had felt so much more at ease with Matthew after that conversation. She decided not to make a fuss and instead indulge Matthew's unorthodox parenting. It made him happy. And that was all that mattered. She told the Nanny to make all the appropriate changes to George's schedule to accommodate Matthew's visits.

She also made a point of following his lead on how to deal with bouts of ill temper. Once making sure it was not one of his excruciating headaches coming on him and needing medical attention, she would accept that sometimes he wanted to be alone while other times they would lie on the bed for several hours, his arms tightly entwined in her own, as if restoring his own strength simply by being in her presence.

Now, as Lady Newberry chattered on about the "thees," thous," and "begats" that got her mixed up that morning in the Sunday lesson Mary missed Matthew something fierce.

But she had only herself to blame. She wanted to come on this week end. Once the hunting started she'd be better.

Other guests filtered into the drawing room. She should not have been to surprised to see Lord Gillingham walk in, alongside a woman she did not know.

Lady Newberry also turned out to be a font of gossipy knowledge. "Tony's new wife," she said, nodding towards the couple. "The former Honorable Mabel Lane Fox."

"She's a great heiress, correct?" Mary asked. "Quite the catch."

And typical of Tony Mary said to herself to choose a wife because of her fortune rather than any sort of affection. Looking at them she assessed his lack of interest in his rather vivacious wife as he was casing the room as a stalker in search of new prey.

Those deep brown eyes landed on her. She turned aside quickly, not wanting to give him any false notions. But uttered a groan of annoyance. She had wanted to enjoy herself this week end. Not play games with failed, overly attentive suitors.

The morning's ride couldn't come soon enough. The Ketterwell hunt wasn't as famous perhaps as the Quorn of Leicestershire but it was a good fox hunting pack. Goliath, her new mount, despite his ferocious name turned out to be quite adaptive to her riding and they got on well. She dressed in the new habit, a memory of their love making two days ago making Mary smile as she affixed the tie.

The air was brisk. The hounds baying to get started. The master made the call and they all set off. Goliath leapt with ease over the oxers as they chased the fox near Carrington Beck then around the right to Ashby pasture where it finally went to ground near Greater Derby Stream.

As much fun as the hunt itself was the recounting of it later amongst all the riders. This, Mary knew, was the part Matthew would particularly find tedious. The archaic idioms meant to close ranks against outsiders.

"I say wasn't Jimmy Scott rather bobbery today?" Lady Beaton asked the group assembled for a late tea after everyone had a chance to tidy up and change. "He lost his nerve and I never saw him again. We really shouldn't invite the locals in."

Of course James Scott wasn't there to defend himself so everyone nodded and laughed at his expense.

"Poor old chap, he is rather pitiful." Tony said in Mary's ear as he took a seat beside her.

"I don't know…" Mary wasn't in the mood to be agreeable. "He took a fall near that ditch on the hill and got back on so perhaps he was rather brave."

Tony gave a dismissive wave. "You're being too kind."

Mary smiled in a polite sort of way. "Mabel knows her way around. She was quite strong."

"She comes from a country family." Tony changed the subject back to Mary. "Your new hunter performed though didn't he? I saw him take that tall fence well in stride."

"He did." Mary was pleased about that purchase. "Papa's new grey also came up trumps."

Their conversation was cut short by the dressing gong. Mary made her excuses and retreated upstairs to the guest bedroom. Anna was waiting.

Mary exchanged her simple blouse and woolen skirt for the Worth evening gown she had worn since before the war.

"Remember no diamonds in the country as Granny Violet says."

Anna switched to a jet necklace.

"Was it a good hunt, m'lady?"

"Yes. Thrilling to get back riding. Really it is."

Anna put the final touches to Mary's hair. "I think that will do."

"As always Anna. Thank you."

Matthew would normally appear from his own dressing room at this moment to escort her to dinner. They would stop by the nursery to see what George was having for his meal and sit for a while until they moved downstairs to the family dining room. In the future when George was older Matthew said he could begin to take some of his meals with them in the smaller dining room attached to their rooms upstairs.

A sudden pang of missing her two men hit Mary with a vengeance. Without the hunt to distract her the rest of the time away was just a long series of boring conversations and idle chatter.

The ball would be even worse with only old men with which to dance. Tony would probably be on hand. But his intentions were becoming more and more obvious to Mary. He seemed completely uninterested in his wife giving all his attention to Mary. She'd have to watch him closely.

How tedious. She sighed and leaned down to accept the wrap Anna put around her shoulders. The night air was quite chilly.

The dinner was sumptuous and the conversation not too bad as once again it mostly revolved around the hunt and country matters.

After the ladies retired to let the men to their port and cigars Mary found time to speak with Mabel. She found her to be quite lively and interesting.

"Tony tells me he's known you since childhood?"

"Yes. Though we've not seen much of each other. He was friends with Patrick before he died."

"To whom you were engaged, correct? Forgive me, I'm trying to get everyone sorted."

"That's right I was."

"So sad. Papa says England's lost a generation of fine young men. Tragic. Was your husband in the war? I mean with his…erm… handicap? Must be hard on you having to take care of him. Did it happen in the war?"

"Matthew served in the North Ridings as ADC to General Strutt. His blindness has been recurrent throughout his life but it didn't stop him from serving. He's currently training to be a solicitor in addition to his duties as heir and chairman of a charitable trust." Mary hoped she didn't sound too voluble in her praise but she was becoming ever more aware of this annoying clucking sound people made whenever they spoke privately to her about Matthew. A kind of pitying tone and a click click of their tongues and a shake of their head. She wanted to rip the look right off their faces with her fingernails when it happened.

But she was trying to be polite so she changed the subject. "Your gown is divine," Mary said. "Is that Madame Paquin?"

"Yes, it is." Mabel was impressed with Mary's eye. "It's one modeled one favoured by the Queen of Spain but modified to fit the modern slim style. Madame is going to retire so I felt so lucky to have one of last originals." Mabel brushed her gloved hand against silk garment with Chinese influences. "Tony likes me to look good on his arm."

She said that with a tinge of sarcasm Mary thought. Trouble in paradise already?

Mary made her way around the room towards her mother. Cora had stayed inside during the hunt nursing a cold and not wanting to risk the chilly air.

"How are you feeling? You can make your excuses you know and retire."

"I'll be fine. Your father promised to make it an early night. He just wants to talk to the master of hounds about tomorrow. I'll rest another afternoon to be ready for the ball tomorrow night."

Cora glanced at her daughter. "Are you sure Matthew won't come? Hodgkins can drive him."

Mary shook her head. "He says he's knee deep in studying for this Law Society exam. He's been muttering Latin terms in his sleep he's so keen."

"It's quite a daunting undertaking. I admire Matthew for it."

"Papa getting used to his heir being a country lawyer?" Mary spoke with a touch of bitterness. "Better that than being a useless blind man."

"Your father regrets giving that impression to Matthew," Cora defended. "He's been trying hard recently to get on board with his various ventures."

"I know," Mary gave way. "I have noticed the thaw. So has Matthew. He was touched by Papa's support of Downton Hall. But he is keen to retrench even more in the new year."

"That will be a showdown. Robert likes to keep to the old ways." Cora said. "Speaking of whom, he's calling me over. Excuse me."

Cora stepped away as Mary exchanged a few pleasantries with another guest.

Tony sidled up beside her.

"Having a good time?"

"Tolerable." Mary jested. "Eager to get back hunting in the morning."

"You rode well today. I was admiring you. Your seat is such that you never tighten up in the saddle. Such an easy gait."

Mary's eyes narrowed. Was he coming on to her? She responded with a chilly "thank you."

"Your husband won't be coming to the ball?"

Mary shook her head.

"That's too bad. I'll select a perfect dance for us to take to the floor."

Now she was becoming alarmed.

"You dance divinely. Must be terrible being married to someone who can't appreciate you. But I'm sure taking care of an invalid has its rewards."

Mary positively bristled. "Invalid?" Her words dripping.

"I heard he has terrible headaches forcing a kind of dependency on laudanum. I know you'll defend him as his wife, but it must get tiresome."

Tony leaned in closer, whispering, "Perhaps I could help. Slip away for a week end somewhere? He can't be much of a man now really. Broken in spirit, and you are in the prime of your beauty."

Mary could hardly believe this was happening. She knew Tony to be full of himself but this was over the mark completely.

"Have I shocked you? We're both married now. It's perfectly acceptable to have a liaison. Mabel has her time in London. I have my diversions…"

"I'm not shocked, Tony." Mary shot back with an assured coolness. "It takes far more than a pathetic attempt to seduce to shock me I assure you. The answer would be no."

And using every ounce of composure she could muster, she conquered the irresistible desire to toss her drink in his face. If she stayed anywhere in Tony's presence for a moment longer she would do just that so she quickly walked away.

How dare he?

Mary tasted bile in her mouth as she turned on her heels. Taking the first right out of the room she found herself in a hallway. She sat down on a high back chair, head spinning she thought from the repellent encounter with Tony. Suddenly she became sick to her stomach and barely made it to the small washroom at the end of the hall. Not wishing to make a scene she retired upstairs to bed not telling Anna or her mother what happened.

She'd feel better in the morning.

XX

By the time of the ball Mary was more herself. The hunt in the morning had cleared her head and by evening she donned her own striking Madame Reynard original with accompanying gloves ready for the evening's gaity.

Going downstairs and keeping her distance from Tony and Mabel she circulated around the room.

The band struck up a waltz. Not terribly daring but Lord and Lady Beaton were of the older generation.

Surprisingly she spotted Rose darting in and out of a couple of side doors peeking with wide eyes around. She saw Mary and for a fleeting instant looked directly at her. And then disappeared again.

Such a strange girl, Mary mused. But since she was here maybe Granny had decided to attend after all. And moving past some of the couples getting ready to dance she saw the dowager seated next to her mother and father.

Glad not to be alone, Mary stood near a pillar across from them. She was going to make move towards her parents when a voice called out, "Shall I have this dance?"

A tingling rush down her spine met that greeting. She turned around breathlessly. "Matthew!"

Looking extremely handsome he was dressed in a brand new fitted black tailcoat jacket and tapered trousers, white waistcoat and white bow tie with pointed collar.

He extended his hand.

She was so astonished to see him there she could hardly speak. She accepted and they made their way towards the dance floor.

"Do you need your stick?" Mary finally asked, noticing he had left his cane near the pillar.

"Don't you remember what I'm always saying? You are my stick," he shook his head, his voice warm and dark. He clasped his hand behind her back and they began to waltz. His hand slunk further along her spine, bringing her closer to him. His steps were slower in time at first but more confidently he began to dance to the music. They circulated in a pattern around the edge of the dance floor.

"Such a lovely surprise," Mary said. "I thought you said you couldn't come."

"A slight prevarication," Matthew admitted.

"And I had no idea you could dance."

"I had to have time for Rose to teach me. I enlisted her aid this past week."

Mary tsked mockingly, "And here I thought you were burning the midnight oil in study."

"Well quite frankly Rose turned out to be terrible. I ended up calling Harvill and Carter in desperation and they've sent another pupil taking the test the same day so we can partner in our studying. Rose was glad to be excused and took up the dancing lessons with much more good humor."

"She's done a wonderful job." Mary was noticing how the other couples, while giving them a wide berth, admired Matthew's skills on the dance floor. He seemed to sense when other dancers were close and turned in another direction. Rose was standing beside Cora, grinning madly at Matthew's accomplished dancing.

"Have you had a good time?" He asked, surreptitiously concentrating on not stepping on his wife's toes.

"I am now." Mary said whispering close to his ear. "It's marvelous having you here." She spotted Tony, open mouthed in a corner watching them, Mabel stood beside him looking rather miserable.

Mary decided not to mar their evening by telling Matthew of Tony's odious proposition.

Matthew continued to smile, content and happy his surprise paid off. He glided her around another time and when the music ended, he took Mary's arm and they made their way to the original spot so he could retrieve his cane.

Cora waved and Mary waved back.

"What a lovely couple you two make." Lady Beaton admired them as they walked past. "Quite charming."

Matthew nodded politely and they stepped away from rest of the crowd.

"Let's go outside." Mary said, suddenly overcome again with a wave of nausea.

Could this be what she thought it was?

"Are you all right my darling?" Matthew wasn't sure what to do as Mary fell weakly against his body. He didn't want to stumble in front of everyone after being so dexterous on the dance floor.

"Let's sit here." Mary opened the French door to the solar. They took a seat on a bench. She turned to her husband. "You might not be the only one with a surprise this evening."

Matthew didn't understand. Whatever could she mean?

Mary took his hand, and being that they were quite alone, placed it along her belly to give him a hint.

Matthew eyebrows flew up. He blinked and could barely speak. "Another baby? My darling… How wonderful."

He reached out to take his wife into his arms.

"I'll have to confirm with Dr. Clarkson," she said, then adding drolly, "but it looks like I'll be giving up the hunt for the foreseeable future."

"Oh my darling…" Matthew murmured joining his wife's mocking good spirits, "how awful for you..." His lips brushed her hair.

Mary's head came to rest contentedly against his shoulder. "I think I shall survive the deprivation just fine."

They stayed for several minutes in the quiet of the solar before returning to the ball and telling the family the good news.

XX  
 _I hope you liked all the happiness. I like my Mary and Matthew happy_! _Aren't Matthew and George adorable haha..._


	30. Chapter 30

_A few vignettes before the holidays descend!_

XX

 **Mid November 1919**

Mary loved being in the privacy of their sitting room. The few days after their return from the hunt ball saw her supervising all the finishing touches to the decor. She had picked every pattern, furnishing, and accent. The fabrics complemented the new William Morris inspired wall paper. Hepplewhite as the design for the sofa, settee, and shield back elbow chairs. Two acanthus arms and champagne petal shaded chandeliers overhead and two emeralite brass table lamps on either side of the sofa.

A set of sliding double doors led to another room with a separate hallway entrance. It had a long sideboard and, in the center, a French provincial draw-leaf table with carved cabriole legs and a parquetry inlay top. It was just enough for when the two of them wanted to eat upstairs on their own but could be expanded when visitors ate privately with the couple. Mary knew Matthew appreciated being able to have a meal where he did not feel on display. In consultation with her mother, Lang, and Mr. Carson it was agreed that Lang, in addition to being Matthew's valet, would set and serve at the upstairs table. "At appropriate compensation for the extra duties, of course," Mary told Lang directly. "And when we have private guests Anna has agreed to help."

Lang had agreed and that very evening Isobel was to dine upstairs with the couple.

She brought in Matthew to the completed room. He walked around with his cane sweeping out in front, peppering Mary with questions about the furnishings, colours, paintings, and objets d'art. Eventually his cane struck against the foot of the settee and he leaned down to feel the cushion so he knew exactly where to sit.

Mary sat down next to him. "I'm glad you like the desk. It's large enough for all of your books." She had chosen a mahogany twin pedestal desk with four drawers on each side for Matthew's use.

It was one of the first things moved into the room and he had already been using it to study along side Freddie Asquith, some distant relation to the former prime minister and hopeful chartered clerk at Harvill and Carter. They had been cramming for the Law Society test all hours of the day moving down to the main library only when the builders were in the sitting room to finish the carpeting, draperies, and wallpaper.

"Would you need a desk lamp? Oh dear..." and then stopped as she realized her faux pas.

He put out a hand and gave her arm a supportive squeeze. "It's fine darling. I know I shan't be needing it but Freddie will. We're going to have to start staying later as we get down to brass tacks. The test is in a fortnight." He then leaned closer, saying "and remember you will be using the desk as well." He licked his lips in a most satisfied fashion. "Given the task you've chosen."

Mary rolled her eyes. "You don't have to look so like the cat that ate the cream. I did say months ago I'd look at the books."

Matthew didn't even try to wipe the smirk off his face. "I know but your confinement fits in so very nicely with this sudden decision to pore over the accounting." Gliding his fingers up to her cheek where he tucked his nose under her jawline to guide him as he placed a series of quick kisses along her neck. "I hope you can bear up under the tedium."

"Charm will get you nowhere…" she insisted but turned into the kiss to make it last.

Matthew then sat back and reluctantly turned much more serious. "You will find things perhaps you won't like."

"Do you really think Jarvis is corrupt? He's been with the family for years."

He could hear the doubt in her voice. "No," he reassured. "I doubt we'll uncover any true malfeasance. Mismanagement at the very least. Perhaps favoritism in his business dealings or turning a blind eye to past due bills that sort of thing. Downton simply cannot afford to do it anymore. He's been in his position for over forty years. He's not interested in moving with the times. We need to show your father by laying it all out in terms he'll understand."

"So I'm to look for any kinds of mismanagement or ways things can be improved."

"I know its' a bit of a Herculean task, but I don't know anyone else to turn to. Robert won't heed my word alone. If we can work together on this I know he'll be more inclined to listen. Downton needs to change to survive."

"And if he does?"

His heart broke as he heard the catch in her voice as she asked. He had made her wait so long for this answer. Matthew knew what Mary wanted him say. It had been a tension point since even before their marriage that he was unwilling to use his inherited money to help out the financial straits of her family home. That he seemed to put loyalty to a dead fiancé above her.

It was all still painful to him in ways he knew Mary didn't quite understand.

The crushing guilt of Lavinia's death had given way to a kind of acceptable peace of mind. Creating the Swire Trust had helped. Downton Hall's gala opening had gone off without a hitch and Robert had been duly impressed with the attendance of the Chancellor of the Exchequer as well as F.E. Smith, Lord Chancellor and the newly created Baron Birkenhead. Smith was an outspoken wit and known for following his own ideas when it came to speaking out in Parliament. He was anti-Home Rule but courageously denounced his fellow Conservatives for declaring the infamous General Dyer of the horrific Amritsar Massacre in India a hero. Matthew and Smith spent a great deal of the afternoon together once the older man realized Matthew's intent on a law career. The two had confabbed with Sir Arthur Pearson and Ian Fraser from St. Dunstan's about possible bills in Parliament to better aid handicapped servicemen and women.

Making a real difference meant everything to Matthew. He wanted Reggie to know his trust wasn't in vain.

And now that was done.

Matthew turned to face his wife. Even if he couldn't see her expression, he wanted her to see his own.

Without hesitation he said, "I will invest in the estate as he wishes."

Mary knew that was a hard concession from her husband. He didn't want to profit from the Swire inheritance but glad he could now be persuaded to use the money if it went towards the overall improvement of Downton and secured the family's future. A future that now included his son and future children.

"Thank you my darling. It will be such a relief to dear Papa." She gave his hand a tight squeeze and his cheek a kiss.

Matthew wanted to make her happy. He didn't really care where they lived or that they had this title or that. It was important to Mary, however. She had been born to believe these things significant and it was a hard tradition to break. Even in an age where nothing of the old world held any fascination anymore, they would carry on. Hopefully not though as if nothing had happened. He wouldn't let Downton or its residents bury their head in the sand and ignore the changes the new post war world brought.

But the Abbey would still stand. If he had anything to do about it.

XX

"That will be all Lang." Mary said, as the valet placed the last platter on the sideboard. "We will ring when we're ready for the next course."

Lang nodded and left the room. Mary stood up and with Matthew's previous consent she prepared his plate with the food from the platters and returned with it to the table. She had watched him at the dining table downstairs and knew how to place the food in a clockwise manner so that he would know where the vegetables and meat were arranged on his plate.

"Thank you darling," Matthew said and took his fork in hand. "So glad you could be with us to inaugurate the new dining room, Mother."

"It's just lovely." Isobel responded with enthusiasm. "What's the news since I've been away?" Her duties with the Hoover Food Relief program taking her once again to the continent for about a week.

"We've just learned that Mary's American grandmother is coming for the holidays." Matthew answered. "Martha Levinson, correct?"

"Yes." Mary nodded. Matthew had been informed along with the family that afternoon by telegram that Cora's mother was making good on the long-awaited visit. She had been, of course, unable to attend the wedding last year and was eager to see the family, meet Matthew, and more importantly her great grandson George. "She'll arrive on the _Mauretania_ December 20. Mama and Papa are going to meet her in Southampton and spend a few days in London at Grantham House then come up here."

"I look forward to meeting her. I've heard she's quite formidable." Matthew added with a grin. "I'm glad the visit comes well after my Law Society exam."

"Well well…" Isobel took in all that information. "I am eager as well. How long is her stay?"

At that Mary faltered. "We're… we're not sure. She hasn't said."

"Is that a problem?" Isobel caught the edge of Mary's hesitation.

Mary's pause caused Matthew to laugh quietly. He answered his mother instead. "It seems Martha and Violet don't have the best of relationships."

"She insists upon calling her that dreadful American." Mary admitted. "Or the Queen of Sheba."

Matthew knew that was something his wife would not have openly divulged at the dining table downstairs. He was already liking the more open atmosphere up here.

"We will all be on best behaviours," he said.

"You might come under her scrutiny as well," Mary warned.

"Me?" Matthew furrowed his brow. "Because of the inheritance?"

"She doesn't like the title entailed to only male heirs."

Isobel was relieved it wasn't about his blindness. "You can't blame her for that."

"True. I agree with that disapproval as you know," Matthew replied. "But as we're married it has become, I hope, irrelevant."

Gone unsaid was also the fact that the Swire fortune was most probably going to save Downton and that was entirely separate from any money from the Levinson family. Matthew and Mary had agreed before his mother's visit to keep that matter, for the time being, entirely to themselves.

"It's certainly going to be quite the occasion. Has she ever visited?" Isobel put down her fork and took a sip of the wine.

"Years ago. It was then that Granny really took against her. They clashed on everything. Grandmama Levinson likes to think of herself as a modern woman. And takes every opportunity to chide Granny about being stuck in the past."

"Well maybe I will have something in common with her then," Isobel pronounced. "I've often thought the same."

Matthew rolled his eyes gently towards his mother. "Now now. We don't want you making some kind of mésalliance against the family not when we're trying our best to keep everything going smoothly."

"Of course not," Isobel reassured. "Though it sounds like you all may be counting the days until she leaves."

"As Granny says 'no guest should be admitted without the date of their departure settled.'" Mary chuckled. "I'm afraid Mama won't have that and we'll be in for a long visit."

"If it ever gets too much I am willing to put on the ruse of a headache and we can all retreat up here then," Matthew cheekily replied with a wink at his wife.

Mary and Isobel laughed and they finished the meal in good spirits.

 **Late November 1919**

"Sybil and Tom are coming for Christmas!" Cora exclaimed. "They'll be here within the fortnight. It will truly be a family gathering. They should arrive around the same time as my mother."

Violet and Mary glanced over. They were all in the library having afternoon tea.

"How lovely." Mary accepted the letter from her mother's hand and scanned it.

"Any other news?" Violet inquired. "Should we be prepared on all fronts for your mother's pesky inquiries."

Cora frowned but would not be drawn into Violet's quarrels with Martha Levinson. "Sybil does strongly hint she might have a surprise but wants to be here to see our faces." At that Cora suddenly beamed.

Violet gave a small cough as she caught onto the implication. Mary arched an eyebrow. The women obviously had the same idea. Mary said it at last. "I'm sure we can guess what she means. So there will be two babies in the new year."

"God willing it does seem the most likely supposition." Cora took the letter back. "Should we tell Robert? He's barely used to the marriage as it is."

Violet decided it. "A Fenian grandchild would put anyone over edge. Maybe wait."

Mary said, "I agree. And Matthew might have some news that will cheer up Papa."

"Something to do with squirrelling yourself away for hours in your new sitting room?"

Mary lifted the teacup to her lips. "I've been helping Matthew out, yes. It will be revealed in good time."

"Will we all be let into the secret?" Violet was intrigued. "I hate Greek drama where everything happens off stage."

Mary smiled. "Yes Granny. Everyone will know." But that was all he said. She promised Matthew to keep her analysis to herself for the moment. It had proven more arduous than even she anticipated. The sheer number of volumes of account books, the small print, the calculations and then recalculating had all taken a great deal of time. Arcane language hampered her progress as did not truly understanding how changes in the larger economy played a role in some of the decisions made by Jarvis regarding his leniency towards the tenants when their rents were in arrears. She did see that he favoured a few grain wholesalers and equipment merchants for years without any attempt to see if there were better deals to be had.

Clearly changes were needed.

Matthew was open to discussing things she found. He sometimes knew the meaning of terms or just listened as she worked things out in her own head.

But she didn't impose too much. He had his own studying. The test was tomorrow in London. He had already left with Freddie Asquith for the capitol. Not wishing to impose on the Asquith family, Matthew was staying at St. Dunstan's to make his getting around easier. And he wanted the quiet the hostel provided he confided to Mary. Asquith had told him his sister and her four children were visiting and they were all quite the noisy lot.

Matthew had been swotting all day and into the night this past week. Memorizing passage after passage of legalese. How to advise a client on confirming rights of access to a property where prior titles include specific burdens of occupation? Explain the purpose of a warrandice clause to a purchaser. Explicate the history of Land Registration legislation… and so on.

She worried his headaches would come back with a vengeance. There was an isolated period about a week ago where he took to their bed for a couple of days, reluctantly taking a laudanum tincture. But that was it. More recently he had just become completely focused. Mumbling _Actori incumbit onus probatio_ under his breath followed by an English definition as they took a turn in the garden. Each evening after dinner they'd retire to their sitting room and she'd have a list of definitions in English and he'd give the Latin maxims.

He could, of course, sit for the exam as many times as it took. Harvill and Carter had reassured him of that. But Mary knew he wanted to do it on the first go. Just like the best of the other candidates. No special treatment given except for taking it verbally rather than in written form.

"Will Matthew come straight back after the Law Society exam?"

"He said so. He got impression he'd be told promptly as to whether he passed so that he could tell Harvill and Carter to go forward with his clerkship. He's so eager to get started on this career." Mary dabbed the side of her mouth with a serviette.

"How do you feel about him taking all this on? What about these headaches that afflict him?" Violet had heard reports about Matthew's bouts when they had stayed at the Dower House.

"I've asked about them but he just waves the concern away. We are to go Glasgow to see Dr. Macewan early next month so maybe we'll know more."

Cora said, "I hope he can give some reassurances."

Mary could only nod in agreement. She knew from Matthew that neurosurgery was still very much in its infancy and his type of adenoma was too dangerous to even attempt to remove without risking death or at the very least more brain damage.

Cora put down her cup. "He doesn't have to be a solicitor, really. Robert doesn't expect him to work. Especially now with this inheritance. Shouldn't giving that money to the blind servicemen be enough?"

Violet kept out of the mother daughter exchange. She knew full well what Cora meant but also was sure that Mary would take her husband's side. They had become quite the formidable team.

"He wants to do it." Mary bristled just a little. "He doesn't want to use his blindness as an excuse for anything and I must support that. He was so despondent earlier this year when it reoccurred and now he's full of ideas and enthusiasm. He's so good with George. I'm very happy."

"Darling I admire your support. It's just so hard on you. I know we all wished he could have kept his eyesight. It would have made your life easier, especially doing the full season starting again in the spring of 1920. He won't be up to many of the events I fear."

Mary knew her mother meant well but it wasn't fair. Aware of the slightly sanctimonious and pitying tone people took when speaking of her husband, she knew it was what he dreaded the most in conversation. "Matthew was more than fine at the Hunt Ball. Tony was being a boor and Matthew saved the evening for me. He danced divinely."

"Most impressive." Violet agreed with that. "Rose wouldn't stop talking about it for days."

"We were all impressed with his accomplishing waltzing." Cora admitted. "I just meant the dinner parties, the Derby, or the Chelsea Flower Show…" But at another withering look from her daughter she changed tack. "Speaking of the Hunt Ball, did you hear that until Tony married Mabel Fox they were going to have sell up?"

Mary sniffed, "I feel for her. Not that long ago Papa was hiring me out as well."

Violet looked at her daughter in law to defend Robert so she could remain diplomatically neutral.

As anticipated, Cora came to her own husband's defense. "Mary don't always be so hard on him." Cora pinched the bridge of her nose. "He's trying to work things out."

Mary bit back saying that if her mother knew how much of her own inheritance had been wasted, she might not be so defensive of Robert. She still had to go through several more volumes of account books before she could make any clear assessment.

"With all the new taxes and insurance and high costs it's going to be happening to many families," she answered. "They will fall. Lots of them."

"And others will dance on their graves." Violet added, this time not even trying to hide her revulsion.

"We must not let it happen to us." Mary emphasized.

"What are you so afraid of? If we have to sell, we will move to a smaller house. Put it in perspective. We're not going down a coal mine in Wales for goodness sakes."

Mary and Violet exchanged a knowing look.

"You don't understand." Her mother in law said. "It's traditional."

"You're too American Mama." Mary added.

Cora replied baldly, "a lot of people live in smaller houses than they used to."

Mary thought to have the last word. "They aren't the Countess of Grantham. One day I will be and in my book the Countess of Grantham lives at Downton Abbey."

Cora wouldn't have that. "Just so long you don't bully Robert about it. Nor my mother when she arrives for Christmas. I don't want any tension during the holidays."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Mary comforted her mother. But couldn't help adding, "there will be enough excitement as it is."

Cora let that go. Mary wasn't wrong on that account.

The rest of the tea went quietly. Mary did keep looking at the library doorway to see if Carson would come in with news. She had hoped Matthew would call soon telling her the results of his exam.

When it did come it was hours later. Dinner was over and still nothing. And then right as she was preparing to go upstairs to bed Carson called her over to the telephone.

Matthew sounded very tired. "Darling I'm so sorry to be late. Sam was taken to London General with a terrible eye infection. He's in surgery now. I'm waiting with Joseph to hear the prognosis. I won't be home until tomorrow at the earliest."

Mary was saddened by that. "Oh Matthew. That's awful. I understand." But she was eager to know his results. "Did you hear from the Law Society?"

She hears a long pause and a deep exhalation at the other end of the line. "I completely forgot in the rush to get a taxi over to the hospital. It's too late now. I'll call first thing to find out." A long pause and then "… I've got to go. The surgeon is calling to me."

"Goodbye then." Mary said. "Give my regards to Joseph and best of luck to Sam."

"Thank you darling." Matthew answered. "Love to Georgie and to you."

She rang off and started up the stairs, deciding suddenly to visit the nursery once again and give their son another long hug and kiss from his absent father.

George looked like a little angel tucked up in his cot, the moonlight falling onto his face as she knelt down to kiss his soft cheek.

He gurgled delightfully and Mary stayed by his side until he fell once more into a quiet slumber.

XX

 _Onto Christmas with the WHOLE clan!_


	31. Chapter 31

XX  
The taxi stopped on the corner of George Street, Pall Mall. The building, inspired by Venice's _Palazzo Corner della Ca'Grande_ , was the Army & Navy Club-House.

"Thank you," Matthew reached out to open the door while Joseph paid. Using his cane he felt for the step down out of the taxi and the gap between the street and the kerb.

"Hallo, sir." The door man said, greeting Matthew warmly. "I'm just here."

They had set up a routine where the sound of the door man's voice guided Matthew towards the first set of steps up to the club.

"Thank you, Price," Matthew answered using his name as the Scottish burr was unmistakable.

Once oriented Matthew could use his cane to walk up and then the senior doorman let the two men inside.

Matthew felt the rush of air as the door opened. He brushed his cane ahead, knowing there was another step over the door sill. "Watch that step, Joseph," he warned his friend as he removed his homburg and leather gloves.

"Right -o."

Matthew heard the scratch of Joseph's cane as it brushed against the step as he followed him indoors.

"Bitter night for sure." The senior doorman said. He was an old Boer War campaigner who had been in the regiment at the time of Lord Grantham's service. Getting a good job like this these days was hard to come by so he made sure he was scrupulously attentive and courteous. Not that it was difficult in this case. Starr liked the young heir to his lordship and knew of his war service before the blindness forced him out. So many of the young men in the club these days were wounded, either physically or spiritually.

"Just here, sir." Starr saw Matthew holding out his coat, hat and gloves. He took both Matthew and Joseph's and handed them to a junior porter.

"I've got a guest for dinner, Starr." Matthew informed, always knowing Starr's voice by his Mancunian accent. They often joked how did it ever happen that two lads from Manchester ended up serving in a Yorkshire regiment.

"Very good. Will you be staying?"

"No." Matthew answered. "Just a meal."

"I'll inform the desk. This way."

Matthew took Starr's upper arm and was guided towards the dining room entrance. Joseph, his arm on Matthew's shoulder, followed.

"Here you are, sir." The doorman steered them to the table by the fireplace Matthew always favoured when he ate at the club. It was close to the entrance yet tucked away from the main dining area.

The head waiter followed behind to take their drinks order.

Matthew stopped to let Joseph reach out to feel for the edge of the leather chair before moving a step to his left to take his own chair.

"Whisky to start?" Matthew asked Joseph, once they were comfortably seated. "I know I need one after all that."

"Just the thing," Joseph approved.

Matthew gave the order to Bainbridge and the man left.

The warmth of the fire felt good on Matthew's cheek. The weather outside had indeed turned wet and rather nasty between the time he had left for the hospital to see Sam after his Law Society exam and the hour he and Joseph finally made their way across town for a late meal. The doctors had told them nothing else would happen after the procedure to remove and debride Sam's infected eyes. The surgeon in the morning would determine the next step.

Reluctantly the two men left their friend, still under considerable sedation, to find their way here.

They settled into the leather chairs. It was one of the locations most familiar to Matthew where he knew they could get a late meal and eat it in peace and quiet. He had taken membership in the Army & Navy Club just the last year when he was traveling back and forth to London as ADC to General Strutt for the North Ridings. And now, as a veteran of the war just past, he maintained the membership. He appreciated that the staff did not fuss too much about his blindness. There had been a few awkward moments when he first started to return to the club when in London for business at St. Dunstan's. As with most people Matthew observed, the sighted wanted to help but were sometimes clumsy and overly attentive which distracted the blinded person and made everything go a bit wrong. Now they had worked out a routine where Matthew could discretely ask for help when needed, but was left on his own unless otherwise instructed.

"I told the nurse we'd be back first thing in the morning." Joseph took a cigarette out of his case and reached into his pocket for his vesta case. Holding the cigarette in his mouth alongside the match, he struck it and at the moment of striking, the flame ignited and was in the right place for him to drag on the cigarette. Once satisfied, Joseph blew out the match, reaching down to feel for an ash tray on the table.

Matthew declined the offer of a cigarette.

Matthew knew of the remarkable innovations in ocular surgery that were now fairly common procedures because of the sheer number of gassed soldiers returning from the war. St D's second Ian Fraser himself had two glass eyes. That always made Matthew resolve to grumble less about his own condition. "That puts your sitch in its place," he'd say to himself using Starr's Manc accent. "Give your 'ead a wobble and realize yer dead lucky."

He said, "Dr. Bell's prognosis was hopeful regarding Sam's recovery from the infection. He said the surgeon would most probably recommend removing what remains of his eyes entirely and replacing them with prosthetic ones to prevent future infections."

"We caught it just in time. His mother wanted him to wait it out but I couldn't see the point." Joseph practically spat out the accusation.

Matthew hadn't known Joseph had been so involved in the decision to move Sam from the Lewis London residence to the hospital. "Mrs. Lewis does tend towards cossetting Sam."

Joseph snorted. "That's putting it in its nicest context. She could have killed him this time with her mollycoddling. Luckily Mr. Lewis prevailed and we got him to London General in time."

His friend paused, and then disclosed "you know that rumour about his pater's honour is true. He's on the New Year's list. So selling guns to prolong a war to kill your own men does get it's rewards," the bitterness apparent and to Matthew's ears entirely legitimate.

He groaned assent and then tried to be diplomatic regarding Fiona Lewis. "She does mean well…"

Joseph would have none of it. "When Sam is discharged, I'm going to offer that we find rooms together. We've talked about it before as St. D's wants my suite for some new recruits."

"What a splendid idea," Matthew concurred, taking a long satisfying mouthful of the Macallan single malt. "He does need a push towards independence."

"Get him away from Fenton Manor and his dinosaur of a family." Joseph struck his fist vehemently on the table.

Matthew heard an intensity to Joseph's voice that revealed just how passionate he was regarding Sam which made him assess their relationship in a way he had never considered before. Was there more than just friendship there? He started to say something but stopped. He'd let them have their privacy about it. He wasn't shocked as he had been at public school and university where such associations were more common than ever acknowledged in proper society. Whatever the situation he'd let it play out with his full support. They were his friends and he'd not judge how they found happiness in this world. It was in desperate short supply.

"What's good to eat here?" Joseph felt the presence of the hovering waiter.

"Have the Beef Wellington and spinach salad." Matthew said. He was too exhausted from the days events to endure having to feign interest in the waiter reading off the whole winter season menu. "It's delicious."

Joseph readily agreed. "Make it two."

"Very good, sir." Bainbridge retired towards the kitchen with the order.

"So this test? They'll have the results in the morning you say?"

Matthew took another sip of his drink. "I'll give the Law Society a ring, yes." He hesitated before saying anything more. Reflecting on the morning's activities he had to admit he was optimistic.

But Joseph caught that Matthew started to say something then quit. "You must have a feel for how you did? Did they seem satisfied with your answers?"

"Taking the test _viva voce_ was challenging. More than I even expected. They threw out follow-on questions after I completed my original answers. I had to think at least two steps ahead which of course I wouldn't have had to do if the test was written. But I understood. They wanted to see if I could think on my feet rather than have just memorized rote responses."

"And did you?"

"I think so." Matthew massaged his forehead. He hoped he wasn't getting another headache. "Certainly enough to show that I knew what I was talking about. When I ring in the morning and it's good news I'll inform Mr. Harvill when I return to Downton by the afternoon train." He paused, "unless you think it best I stay until Sam's recovered."

"No. No. That will be some time as you know. You get back to your family. When is the new arrival?"

Matthew brightened. "In early summer. George will be talking and walking by then. He'll be so excited to have a little sister or brother."

"Do you have a preference?"

"Not at all." Matthew asserted. "Just healthy…" And then his voice trailed off.

Joseph heard the other man's agony. "What is it old chap?" He encouraged softly.

Matthew cleared his throat and finally said his worst fear out loud. "I don't like the uncertainty regarding the children. Will they … they end up like me?" He felt his throat tighten. "Or … worse." The headache flared up again with a vengeance.

Joseph paused and considered what was best to say. He heard Matthew's agony and wanted to help him. But he knew when Matthew worried he tended to think only the worst. So he had to put it in perspective.

"In Catholicism when the church wanted to canonize a saint they appoint a priest as _Advocatus Diaboli_ in order to uncover any flaws or reasons to discredit the canonization process."

Matthew furrowed his brow. "Yes. I've heard about that in legal circles. What does that have to do…"

"I shall play the devil's advocate here." Joseph leaned forward in his chair. "What would it matter if one or both children inherited your brain tumour?"

Matthew rubbed his fingers against his lips in thought. He knew what Joseph was doing now.

"Would you love them less? Care about them less?"

"But I want the best for them. If I gave them…"

"Something that is inoperable and completely out of your hands."

"True but…"

"No buts Matthew," Joseph ended gently. "You wear guilt like a penitent wears a hair shirt. You did it with your former fiancée and you're doing it here. You and Mary are the best possible parents for your children. You will ensure that they live their lives in the best possible manner. So what if one or indeed both go blind?"

He could hear Matthew's sharp intake of breath.

"Is it the end of the world? I think we've both rather proven the opposite," Joseph proffered. "Or are you of the opinion we deserve to be unwanted and unloved? That we need to be hidden away and meant to be of no use to our families or society?"

"No," he said faintly, slightly embarrassed to be upbraided but understanding the place of friendship from which it came. "Of course not." And then with more sureness, "Certainly not. Thank you, Joseph. I needed to say that out loud to hear just how wrong it was."

"Here endeth the lesson," Joseph said sanguinely. "We all need to be bucked up every once in a while."

The meal came the two men started to eat in companionable silence.

The headache began to subside as Matthew consumed the food. Maybe he was just hungry after all.

"Did I tell you Mary's other grandmother is visiting for Christmas all the way from America? She is supposed to be quite the character. Mary's said there will be a dinner party in her honour. Will you be able to make it?"

"When I see everything is settled with Sam I'm bound for your neck of the woods. I told Trevor that I'd give fencing lessons during the hols."

Matthew took another bite of his Beef Wellington then answered. "Sanderling's doing a wonderful job but Miss Dawson has told me that they are already overwhelmed with applicants. We're to talk expansion in the new year. Robert's grousing again but there are several more cottages that can be refurbished."

"It's just the two of them in the office, right?"

"So far. Trevor has given signals that he needs a day to day manager now that the Hall is fully open. I knew he was more interested in supervising the education and training of the residents rather than operations and oversight. Miss Dawson has taken on some personnel and purchasing duties but it's not really her responsibility." Matthew shifted in the leather seat. "Yet something else for the new year."

"The gala opening of Downton Hall was a grand success. Getting not only Chamberlain but Birkenhead as well. Fraser's keen to keep up the momentum on the legislation. He's thinking of finding a constituency and entering the political arena."

"Excellent idea." Matthew couldn't have had better news than to realize their efforts were really making strides. "We'll be assured of a voice to compel the government to provide jobs and opportunities rather than sit on their hands and expecting private charities take up the slack."

"It'll be years yet wait and see." Joseph answered returning to a note of cynicism. "They have this wretched war yet to pay for as the government is bankrupt."

"Don't I know it," Matthew said. "Taxes have gone up double digits on Downton. It'll be a miracle frankly if the family estate survives intact."

"You've been pressed haven't you? To use some of your Swire inheritance. What have you decided?"

Matthew took a deep breath. "I've had a difficult relationship with Robert because of my delays. He seems to think that I'm obliged to give him what he wants simply because I married his daughter when he's the one who's spent years even previous to the war just coasting without any thought to retrenchment or conservation."

"I somehow sense a but coming…" Joseph joked.

Matthew had to laugh. "Yes. You're right. I've made a pact with Mary that once she goes over the accounting books and we talk it all out, I will bring an offer to Robert to invest in the estate if he agrees to embrace a certain amount of economizing and taking on more modern methods of farming."

"It seems a fair solution."

"We'll see." Matthew had experienced too much of his father in law's interference and outright narrow-mindedness regarding his blindness to assume Robert will come around and accept Matthew's terms.

The two men finished their meal and ordered a taxi to take them back to St. Dunstan's for the night.

XX

Matthew arrived back by the midafternoon train. He cautiously stepped down and moved away from the gap. He put down his Gladstone bag and buttoned up his cashmere Chesterfield coat as a brisk wind funneled down the station platform. Mary was supposed to pick him up in the Vauxhall but she might be a few minutes late.

He leaned on his stick as he waited, quietly singing a Christmas carol. " _God rest ye merry Gentleman let nothing you dismay…"_ and then he heard his wife's distinct foot falls and turned towards the sound.

"Darling," reaching his free arm out to take her hand. "I've missed you."

Mary always felt so loved in his careful listening and his intimate tone of voice.

"Me too," she answered taking his hand. He looked so handsome in his matching homburg and winter coat, the latter being an early Christmas present she had made for Matthew at a Savile Row tailor when they were in London upon their return from Cannes. "From your jolly manner I'm taking its all good news? How is Sam?"

His face paled slightly. "I saw him this morning. He was conscious and was aware Joseph and I were present but he was still heavily bandaged and sedated. He's to have more procedures to clean out all the infection and eventually remove what's left of his eyes."

"Oh darling," Mary said, "I'm so sorry."

Matthew clutched at her hand hard even as his voice fought to cast the event in a positive light. "It's for the best. Sam will have fewer infections and lead a healthier life Once the doctor assesses his recovery, he'll be fit for his new artificial eyes. They are quite remarkable I've been told. Just like the real things."

Matthew's lips remained horizontal, refusing to turn them down in sadness. Mary saw through his brave front but she knew he would want her to do the same. "I see, yes," she responded. "I'm sure he'll come through fine."

Mary fought her own internal battle to be strong. So much of her life had been sheltered from the kind of life that experienced anything like this. But now, after the war and after Matthew's struggles, she had found a resolve within herself that she hoped would see her through the rest of their life's journey together.

Matthew felt up her arm and shoulder with his gloved hand which guided his lips towards her cheek. "You are wonderful, you know."

She squeezed his hand supportively but couldn't wait any more. "What did the Law Society say?"

Matthew's face brightened. "Oh right! After spending the early part of the morning at hospital where I left Joseph with Sam, I had to get some help from a nursing sister finding a taxi to get back to St. D's to fetch my bag and then ask Irene in the office to call the Law Society. Then I had to wait for the proctor to come to the telephone. I was afraid I'd be too late to catch the 12:10 so I didn't have enough time to call you as I had to make a dash to the taxi stand outside St Regent's Park to Marylebone."

Matthew was out of breath after all that dissemination of information but Mary practically panted with curiosity.

"Matthew! Did you pass?"

He laughed heartily at forgetting the most important part. "I qualified with flying colours." He sounded so proud and happy but Mary also detected a tinge of utter relief. "I've already telephoned Mr. Harvill."

"I'm so happy." Mary embraced him and gently kissed his cheek.

"Thank you darling. What about you? How are you feeling? Any more sickness?"

"A bit. It's getting better. I've had to take some time away from the accounts as they're making my head spin."

"Of course, of course," he answered. "I completely understand. Maybe what you've managed is enough to get Robert to listen. How's our Georgie?" He took her arm after grasping his bag with his other hand and they walked towards the car.

"Tearing around the nursery on all fours. He's wobbled a bit trying to stand but no luck yet."

"I can believe it. He's raring to go. Let's visit him directly after we see the family."

Mary opened the passenger side door and waited until Matthew felt for the door frame and guided his hand to the seat back. He first put his bag on the passenger seat and then reached around and placed it on the floor of the back seat. Then he got in and closed the door.

"Ready?" Mary asked, turning over the engine starter and setting the fuel pump gauge.

"Absolutely."

They made good time back to Downton. Mary parked in front of the house. She got out and walked around to passenger side to allow Matthew to take her arm.

"Good afternoon, sir." Carson intoned so that Matthew would know he was presently on Matthew's left.

"I'll take the bag to Lang."

"Thank you, Carson."

Mary and Matthew walked across the gravel drive and into the house. The family was at afternoon tea so they made their way into the library.

Cora, Robert, and Violet were all present for Matthew's announcement of his success.

"Marvelous." Cora said.

"Good show." Robert added.

"Thank you." Matthew was so relieved he could move on to the working portion of his clerkship

"You might be able to help me with a codicil or two to my will," Violet said as Matthew took a seat on the settee across from Mary's grandmother.

"I'd be happy to oblige. I have already telephoned Mr. Harvill and he says I can start Monday."

"Isn't that the same day Sybil and Tom arrive?" Cora turned to Mary.

"Yes. Their boat docks at Liverpool in the morning and they're expected by the afternoon." Mary said. "Her letter arrived while you were in London," she added, turning to Matthew.

"I look forward to seeing them at dinner after I arrive back on the afternoon train. I will have to practice walk it a few times to map out the best path from the station in my head."

"I'll join you." Mary replied. "We can figure it out together."

"Hodgkins can pick you up every day," Robert said. "You don't have to walk…"

"No." Matthew responded politely but firmly. "Thank you Robert, but insofar as it's practicable I like to manage on my own."

Practicable was one of the watchwords of St. Dunstan's. To do as much as one could independently but know also when one needed help.

Mary noticed Matthew twirling his cane handle in his hand. He never put it down beside the settee which he usually did when he was settled for a long period of sitting. It was a sign he was eager to leave the room and go to the nursery.

She turned to her mother. "I think we'll have our tea a bit later. I know Matthew wants to see George before Nurse Todd puts him down for his afternoon nap."

Matthew flashed her a blissful smile and gripped his stick as he got up. "We won't be long."

He took her arm and they walked out towards the saloon and the red staircase that led to the nursery rooms upstairs.

Mary opened the day nursery door but Matthew didn't need to be told that George was awake as he was already making a ruckus pounding on a drum and vocalizing at the top of his lungs.

"He's in good spirits," Matthew said gingerly walking inside and sweeping cane out if front to avoid any of his son's playthings. George tended to throw his blocks or stuffed bear across the room and he didn't want to trip.

"Indeed," Mary said more drolly. The ear-piercing squeals of delight increased as soon as he spotted his parents.

"Da Da. …Da Da. … DA DA!" George clapped in time to his own sing song recitation.

Matthew beamed as soon as he heard his son.

"He's been like this ever since you left," Mary informed pretending to be wounded that her son preferred his father to her tender ministrations. "Florence said he simply won't be placated by anything."

She turned to Matthew and rolled her eyes. "You don't have to look so smug you know."

He chortled then rejoindered quickly, "Of course I do."

Mary smiled. It was good having Matthew home. "I'll bring him over."

Matthew nodded and took a few steps to the right until his cane struck the base of the window seat. He sat down.

"Thank you, Florence. We'll be fine with him." He heard Mary's voice from across the room. Next he heard the sound of happy gurgling as Mary scooped up George in her arms and brought him over.

Sitting down first beside Matthew she then placed him in his father's lap. Matthew's arms came around to support the child. He started to bounce him on his knees.

George mouthed a series of "A aa AA aa A aaas" in time with the movement.

"He feels a bit heavier," Matthew said as he got a better grip on his son under his shoulders.

"He's eating all sorts of new foods lately. And he's learned to hold blocks of cheese and bread in his fingers and feed himself. He loves sliced up apples and Mrs. Patmore's mushy vegetables and a little bit of custard pie."

"He's got how many teeth?"

Mary did a mental count then said, "six or seven I think. His bottom two and then top two and the ones next door and a new one any day. He's been chewing on his arm Nurse Todd says which is a sure sign of new teeth."

"You've decided to keep Todd?" Matthew knew she had been considering letting the nurse go and just keeping Florence on as nanny now that she was well ensconced in George's life. "Because of the new little one?"

Mary nodded then corrected herself. Matthew always required a vocal response. "Yes. I think it's best to just keep her as it won't be long until there's two here. Florence couldn't do it all herself."

Matthew snuggled George even closer and kissed his head. "You're not going to be the only one any more young man. How will you take a baby brother or sister, eh?"

"Not well at all if you continue to spoil him rotten. Granny says we should spend no more than an hour or two a day with one's children."

But Matthew could tell by her mock affected tone she was only ribbing him. Neither of them could endure only seeing their children once in the morning and once before bedtime.

"Sybil wrote she can't wait to see him."

Matthew shifted the child as George was wriggling around. "What are the chances you think that they might move back here?"

Mary gave a "hmmmm…" thinking out loud sound and said, "I'm not sure what kind of job prospects Tom would have although from what I read between Sybil's lines he's not having an easy time there either. And with her being pregnant she can no longer nurse."

Matthew licked his lips in thought.

"What's on your mind?" Mary knew that look her husband got when he had a plan brewing.

"It's just that Downton Hall is in need of a general manager and I could think of no one better than Tom. He's smart. Reliable. Someone I could depend on to get the job done while Trevor focuses on the educational and vocational side of things."

"We could just ask him if he was interested? What would we have to lose?"

Matthew nodded. "Yes. I think I'll do just that after they have a chance to settle over the holiday."

"I know Mama would be thrilled to keep Sybil in England."

"And George would have two new nursery mates!"

"And little Anthony when he visits," Mary reminded.

"Three new friends!" Matthew hugged his son tightly. "You'd like that now wouldn't you?"

"He's starting to drift off," Mary warned. George's eyes were drooping shut.

"Ah well time for a night night song…" Matthew started to quietly croon a Christmas carol his mother sang before his bedtime at that time of year.

Mary's soft soprano joined in

 _Once in royal Davids city,  
Stood a lowly cattle shed,  
Where a mother laid her Baby,  
In a manger for His bed…_

They hadn't gotten very far at all when George fell asleep. Mary took the child from Matthew's arms and gave him back to Florence who put him down in his cot.

Mother and Father slipped quietly out and rejoined the family downstairs once again.

"This is going to be a marvelous Christmas," Matthew whispered to Mary, feeling her close to him on the staircase. "The best one ever."

XX  
 _It most certainly will! And very noisy as well as the entire Crawley clan descends on Downton throwing in a Levinson great grandmother and Rosamund and Richard Carlisle as well!_


	32. Chapter 32

XX

"Dr. Macewan was very kind in his explanation that there was nothing that could be done for my condition at this time." Matthew carefully reached out his hand to feel for the edge of the saucer before he replaced his tea cup. "There's been significant advances of course. He's done several excisions of intracranial meningiomas and others have done spinal tumours. And there's exciting developments in cerebral angiography in Portugal but nothing for my adenoma which presses on the optic chiasm where the optic nerves from each eye merge together."

He sounded resigned to his fate, reciting the last of the information by rote, having heard the same words from doctors and ophthalmologists all his life. "He was interested in my headaches as …" and here his voice did become strained and cautious to not alarm his wife unduly, "in a very rare complication there can be an acute hemorrhage of the tumour and one of the symptoms include severe headaches. But" he heard her gasp… "It's very rare" and he reached out his hand for Mary to take. She did so and squeezed it hard. "Dr. Macewan doesn't believe I'm in any danger. I don't meet any of the other systemic symptoms. So the headaches are a side effect of the tumour being so near the pituitary gland he speculates."

Mary's face was a flood of emotions. Relieved he wasn't in danger of course, but also glad Matthew couldn't see her disappointment. She didn't really know why she thought he'd return with happier news. Dr. Macewan had been presented to her as a miracle worker in neurosurgery and somehow, against all her rational thought, she had hoped he would find a way to relieve Matthew of his brain tumour or at least give him some hope of recovery of his eyesight.

It would have been a miraculous Christmas present for him. But it was not to be. "No matter. We were right to make the trip so you could obtain all that useful information." Mary answered supportively. "And this is such a lovely tea room."

Matthew appreciated his wife's diplomacy but felt her sense of anticlimax. "I'm sorry darling. He did say that there might be periods of sight but they would always be completely random. The progress being made, however is significant. Who knows what it might mean in the future."

Mary always felt so loved at his desire to comfort her in a way that was never cloying but forthright and genuine. "Absolutely. Does he want to make this an annual visit?"

"For the time being. If anything changes, of course I'm to tell him right away. Also…" Matthew stopped to pluck up his courage then continued, "…he wants to see George at some time in the next couple of years." He then added hurriedly, "now he said there's no reason to think George has inherited the adenoma but more that he wants to monitor his growth just in case."

It was as Mary both feared and accepted. "I'm glad we have such an august expert to advise us with regards to the children."

She saw Matthew involuntarily flinch at her acknowledging that it would be all their children that would be potentially affected.

But he pulled himself together quickly and said, "the world is changing so much thanks to places like St. Dunstan's. I hope the children will be the beneficiaries of all sorts of improvements in mindsets and attitudes."

"Indeed." Mary clasped her husband's hand under the table. "We are very lucky parents."

"So very lucky…" Matthew repeated, the corners of his lips raised in a soft smile and took on that sweet innocent look that endeared him to Mary's heart.

"What is the décor of this tea shop?" He asked, changing the subject. "You said it was lovely." He had followed her in from the taxi earlier, his mind still on the visit with Dr. Macewan. He hadn't given where they were eating a second thought.

Mary looked around." I love the accents of silver, grey and pink. There are mirrored friezes all around the room giving it an airy feel. The decorations and accents are all organic, inspired by the natural environment. It's called the Willow Tearooms and until just a few years it was owned by Kate Cranston who is well known for being rather eccentric but also instituted an insurance scheme for the workers here and provided all employees three meals a day knowing many came from poorer families. She hired Charles Rennie Mackintosh and his wife Margaret to design the interior. It's in the Art Nouveau style I love so much. We're in the main tea room, the Salon de Luxe but upstairs there is a billiards room and the downstairs basement is what's being called the 'dug out' by returning soldiers."

Matthew was impressed. He could just imagine it in his mind. "You know a great deal about the rooms." He then heard a slight titter of laughter. "What?"

"I spent the hour or so you were in with Dr. Macewan with another patient's mother and she told me all about the tearooms. It seems she worked here in before the war."

"A perfect place to eat then before we catch the train back."

They had made the day trip to Glasgow the Friday following his start at Harvill and Carter, taking advantage of the situation that Sybil and Tom had been delayed by weather from arriving at their appointed times and Mrs. Levinson had decided to take a later booking. Now the Branson's were to arrive on Sunday while the _Mauretania_ was to dock on the Tuesday before Christmas. Edith was already at the Abbey with baby Anthony, Hodgkins picking her up right after dropping off Mary and Matthew at the train station that morning.

Their conversation was unexpectedly interrupted by a familiar voice. "Mary?"

"Aunt Rosamund…" Mary couldn't hide her shock. She stood up to embrace her relative.

"Darling I had no idea you were in Scotland." Rosamund returned Mary's hug.

"Richard." Mary said politely but also stating it for Matthew's benefit. Richard said nothing, merely nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Matthew, more than a bit taken aback, gripped the chair arms and stood up trying not to stumble in getting his balance. He held out his hand for the other man to accept.

"Are you here for the holiday?"

Matthew had barely believed that Rosamund had gone through with the wedding to the odious man. But perhaps, as Mary kept hoping, that each would smooth out the other's rough edges. He could never be more than distantly polite in any case, given their past differences.

"My mother still lives in Edinburgh, in the district of Morningside. We're to spend Christmas with her." Richard explained in that soto Scots burr that was always so tricky to Matthew's ears.

"But we will be at Downton for the shooting," Rosamund added briskly. "I've already telephoned Robert accepting. Do you know how many other guns?"

"A few regulars Papa always invites. Neighbours and parliamentary friends." Mary replied, knowing Matthew shifted uneasily beside her. In 1918, right before his eyesight really began to fail him, he had reluctantly participated in the New Year's shooting party. He wasn't very good of course and didn't like the experience at all, but it was still a reminder of the time he had been sighted.

"We'll look forward to your arrival." Mary said, hoping that would be hint that the conversation was at an end.

"We're off to do some last-minute shopping."

The two women embraced once more and the couples parted. Matthew sat back down with relief. "I deserve another piece of cake after that," he jested.

"What a good idea. We do need a reward for being on our best behaviour," Mary quipped back. "Victoria sponge or an Eccles?"

Matthew considered it, an impish grin making his mouth pucker. He then scrunched his face delightfully and exclaimed, "Both! It has to be!"

XX

It was time.

The family all lined up.

Robert fidgeted, rocking first on one foot than the other. He felt at sea without his wife's steadying influence and he never knew what to expect from his mother-in-law. Cora had gone to Southampton to meet her at the dock yesterday. They had stayed overnight in London as Martha rested and then they were to take the morning train to Downton Village.

Of course Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes had everything in order for their arrival and currently held the positions of honour at the front of the servant column. All the younger servants were in their best uniforms and were lined up according to station.

Matthew stood beside Robert, leaning elegantly on his stick and wearing his dark glasses on Dr. Macewan's advice to relieve his eyes of any possible strain. Mary, in a beautifully textured winter wool coat with fur cuff and collar, at his side and next to her Isobel in a grey coat and fur hat. George and Anthony were still in the nursery, being too little to have to be outside.

Sybil, Tom, and Edith took up position on the other side of the doorway. Violet, not having to be present, remained at the Dower House until the dinner hour.

None of them knew what to expect from Martha's visit. Her grandmama was a force of nature determined to stir up mischief in what she considered the dry old timbers of Downton Abbey.

Mary was ruminating some mischief of her own with her grandmother. The Levinson family rolled in money. What would be the harm in asking if she'd help out with some funds. It was still in the back of her mind so she had not yet brought the idea up with Matthew. Mostly because she knew he'd hate it on principle.

And she didn't want to disturb the peace and quiet of the past few days. Matthew took the train to Ripon and the offices of Harvill and Carter, taking advantage of the fair weather and walking back each day from the Downton Village train station via a path that took him to the gate of Downton Hall and the paved walkway back to the Monks garden at Downton. He'd usually arrive in time to dress for dinner. He had started work lightly, allowing both solicitors and their newly qualified articled clerk time to get used to each other and figure out what accommodations Matthew might need.

Tom and Sybil had joined them upstairs for dinner twice since their arrival, the rest of the time everyone dined downstairs. Sybil had been very tired from the journey, her pregnancy a difficult one so all were on their best behaviour. Mary and Edith would sit with their sister after she retired upstairs early and settled in bed, chatting about their children or what to expect in the upcoming months of pregnancy. Mary was two months along while Sybil was in the middle of the second trimester.

Matthew wanted a chance to talk to Tom about his offer of a job at Downton Hall. The dinners had been pleasant and chatty but he didn't get a feel for whether the Bransons intended to stay in Yorkshire or return to Ireland. He hoped to be able to do ask this afternoon. Everyone would be busy with Martha Levinson's arrival. He had to go to the Hall to finalize the Christmas recital plans with Trevor and was going to suggest Tom accompany him.

But all those thoughts of both Mary and Matthew were put aside as Hodgkins pulled the Rolls up to the house with Martha in the back and Cora beside, her lady's maid on the opposite seat. The chauffeur opened the door.

Robert stepped forward.

Mary nudged Matthew on a prearranged signal. He took off the dark glasses and pocketed them.

"Come war and peace, Downton still stands and the Crawleys are still in it." Martha elegantly stepped out of the car, followed by her daughter.

"Robert," she said as she stretched her arms and the two awkwardly embraced. Mrs. Levinson's belle shaped hat was so large he had to duck under the brim so as not be hit by a large ostrich feather.

"She certainly knows how to make an entrance," Matthew murmured wryly to his wife.

"You've no idea…" Mary bantered back with a droll chortle.

Martha was making her way towards the family after chastising Carson for being behind the times. Which of course he courteously threw back with aplomb.

Sybil caught Mary's eye across the front entrance. She mouthed an insouciant "here we go" as she rolled her eyes.

Mary smirked with amusement. Grandmama's reputation for acerbic commentary proceeding her.

"Sybil! You're with child! My darling I was thrilled when Cora confirmed our suspicions."

Granddaughter and grandmother hugged. "You will have to tell me all about your confinement arrangements. I hear childbirth is still quite primitive in England." She patted her shoulder supportively and moved on.

"Edith darling! I was so sorry to hear about your bereavement. Don't worry. We'll find you someone else to fill the gap of your loneliness. I'll give you all the tips from the modern American girl."

"Thank you…" Edith was soft spoken but her eyes beetled back and forth in total astonishment.

Martha crossed the threshold towards the new heir and his wife.

Mary instinctively straightened up.

"Ah Mary. Dearest Mary."

They lightly embrace, Mary placed a gentle kiss on her grandmama's cheek.

"I was vexed by this war keeping me from your nuptials. I'm sure I could have given you a tip or two to improve the ceremony."

Matthew couldn't help but guffaw at that jab, but suppressed it by swallowing it back and it ended up as a cough.

"You should take something for that," Martha articulated, a little too loudly trying to get Matthew's attention. "My my what pleasingly sapphirine eyes, quite like a Greek god. But yet so useless." And she gave a pitying tsk tsk sound that grated on Matthew's ears.

"Homer himself was blind so I guess I'm in rare good company." Matthew crisply rejoined. "Or maybe Jonathan Swift's 'There's none so blind as they that won't see.'"

"I should think so…" Isobel muttered threw gritted teeth, glad her son took none of this woman's condescension.

Martha, one never fazed by a good retort, turned to Mary and said, "He's a keeper isn't he?"

Mary's mouth twitched with a sly smile and said dryly. "I think he is."

They all made their way inside where Carson and Thomas served tea.

After a polite amount of time Matthew leaned over to Mary. "I told Trevor I'd be at the Hall by 11."

"Go. And do take Tom. He's looking like a prisoner at the dock."

Matthew waited for a lull in the conversation to save Tom.

"…I've heard of those journeys on my side of the water…"

What on earth is the woman speaking about? Does she even know what a journalist is? Matthew furrowed his brow, glad he didn't have to answer and was happy to rescue Tom.

He stood up. "I will take my leave now as I've a meeting at the Hall. Tom," Matthew tried to turn casually towards the sound of his brother-in-law's voice. "Would you like to see the place? We've made all sorts of improvements since your last visit."

Tom leapt up a bit too quick. "I'd be glad to."

Mary and Sybil exchanged understanding looks. Best to let their men go. They've been under the gun long enough for now. There will be plenty more before their grandmother's visit was over.

Martha, curiosity piqued, asked "the Hall? What is that?"

Mary cut in, "I'll explain. Matthew has a meeting with the director he simply must attend."

If he could he'd shoot a private look of relief at his darling wife. Instead he turned to Tom and said, "Ready?"

Tom moved so Matthew could take his upper arm as a guide and the two left by the garden French doors.

"Out of the line of fire at last." Tom said.

"She'd have made a damned fine drill sergeant in another life." Matthew noted unironically. "Or an interrogator of enemy agents."

The two men laughed as Matthew let go of Tom's arm and using the sound of the gravel to guide him, they walked side by side towards the hostel.

"How many ex-soldiers now?"

"About 22. Mostly those wounded in France. We do have a couple of men who were in munitions explosions while working during the war. Miss Dawson informed up that there were women as well who were wounded in those disasters. I gather she thinks we need an annexe for blinded women."

"I'm sure Sybil would agree. Even before the war she always lent a hand to some charity or other." Tom loved that about his wife. "She helped get Miss Dawson her first job outside of domestic service."

Matthew remembered it was Sybil who first recommended Gwen Dawson to him as an office manager. "We'll have to invite her to tea upstairs after the holiday. She's gone to visit her father and mother for a few days."

"Any Irishmen? I could write an article perhaps while I'm here." Tom said. "I've been doing some freelance work."

"We'll ask Trevor." Matthew stopped walking. "I say, Tom…"

"What?"

"Well …oh I'm just going to come out and ask. I've got a managerial job on offer here that would suit you fine. I don't know your plans with regards to returning to Ireland but I know Mary and her mother would love it if Sybil remained here for her confinement. I thought while we're there today I can introduce you to Trevor and the Hall and you can look around and see if it's something you'd want."

"…. I don't want to talk out of turn though…" He trailed off, hoping he hadn't pushed in where he wasn't wanted.

Tom said nothing at first. He looked away, pursing his lips as he thought about how to respond. Being in Dublin with Sybil on their own was a breath of fresh air but their finances were strained. More so now with a _babaí_ on the way.

"I don't need an answer right away…" Matthew's cane tapped nervously on the gravel path as he tried to look in Tom's direction.

"Thank you, Matthew." Tom replied kicking himself as he realizing his non-verbal cues weren't getting across to his brother-in-law. "I will give it serious consideration. As you say it will relieve my mind to know Sybil will have the best care by remaining at Downton but…."

"But you don't want to give up the freedom of living on your own?" Matthew finished Tom's unspoken sentence. "I can understand that. Though it's different for me, especially now, I do wish Mary and I had the chance to learn about who we both are without everybody being there. Trickier for you given your political differences with Robert as well."

"He doesn't want me here. I can see him staring and I know."

"I doubt you'll recruit him for Sinn Féin," Matthew said dryly. "But you'll certainly be an ally to me. Together we might just push him into the 20th century."

Tom smiled. "Sybil told me of your promise to Mary to invest if Robert agrees to make improvements."

Matthew knew she had. "We'll see if that all works out." He pushed his cane into the gravel. "Look. Why don't we get over to the Hall? The residents are putting on their own Christmas recital concert tonight and are rehearsing right now. Give you a chance to meet some of them while they aren't at their studies."

Tom agreed and Matthew spent the next hour or so introducing him around and giving him tour of the job training facilities and the office. At the end they sat in the public room while an ex-soldier of the Middlesex regiment played on the piano and a Welsh Fusilier sang _Ar Hyd y Nos_ in a lilting tenor voice first in Welsh and then in English.

" _All the stars' twinkles say/ All through the night/ This is the way to the realm of glory/ All through the night…"_

Upon returning to Downton Carson informed Matthew that their wives were upstairs in the nursery.

"This way," Matthew pushed out his cane to ensure there were no obstructions in his way as they walked towards the front red staircase.

"They finished putting up the tree yesterday." Matthew pointed in what he thought was the direction of the very large fir Christmas tree taking place of honour in the saloon. "Mary brought George down and he helped with the decorations." He smiled broadly. "Well... almost destroyed them really. Mary told me how Georgie had actually grasped onto a bough of the tree with such force she was afraid it would totter to the ground before the footmen had secured it in the tub."

Tom laughed. "I can't wait to see our little one do that next year." He stopped short, a bit red faced. "I… I mean…"

"No matter Tom," Matthew said calmly, knowing he didn't mean the faux pas. "Let's get upstairs."

They turned right on the landing and entered the first door.

Tom found his wife on the floor playing blocks with George. He joined her, making the appropriate noises as the tower came crashing down.

"Darling…" Mary's voice guided Matthew towards his regular place on the window seat. "Little Anthony is lifting his head already."

"Wonderful." He took the seat next to his wife. He heard the infant's quiet mewling across the room. "How's our Georgie?"

"Into everything. I'm afraid Florence just follows him around now as he wreaks destruction." Mary described vividly.

"Any walking?"

"He wobbles a bit but falls down, cries, and demands attention." Mary gave a mock sniff. "I've a mind to ignore him. Don't want to spoil."

"Never." Matthew said indulgently. "He's our little prince but in here he's king of the castle."

Mary knew Matthew loved the light banter as it was a way for her to apprise him of their son's progress conversationally rather than having it appear like she was giving him a report. "Don't say I didn't warn you when the king becomes a tyrant."

Everyone laughed.

At that moment Isobel poked her head in. "Room for one more?"

Matthew turned in the direction of his mother's voice. "Come in," he said tenderly. "We're gathering strength before taking on Grandmama Levinson again."

Isobel took the chair next to the window seat. "I must say I thought I was opinionated but that woman has me beat by a mile."

Mary declared, "Granny's expected for dinner so the rest of us can be relieved. They are the true battle of wills. Neither will give in until doomsday."

Another round of laughter echoed in the room.

As Matthew and his mother conversed about George's accomplishments, Mary noticed Edith was sitting very quietly in a rocking chair. Her own nursery maid was brought to help with Anthony and at the moment she was feeding him from a bottle in the other room. Her sister's grief was at its rawest during this holiday. The first without her husband. Without any built-in memories of past Christmases with their child. She wanted to help but didn't know what to do. Part of her was made more aware of her happiness with Matthew and George. Matthew's blindness was a challenge but he was alive and healthy. Their son, and the child to come in the new year, would only multiply the love in their household.

Mary got up, after giving Matthew's hand a squeeze and walked over to her sister. "Edith dearest, is there anything I can do?"

They had never been close but at times like this it didn't much matter.

Edith appreciated her sister's gesture of kindness. "Thank you, Mary, but this is enough. Just being here with the children. With Sybil. I know he's here with me, looking on from above." She started to cry but composed herself again. "I won't have Grandmama see that. She's already after me to take a long visit to Newport so she can introduce me to an American millionaire."

"Heavens." Mary rolled her eyes. "She does demand to interfere wherever she pleases."

"She means well." Edith replied, shrugging her shoulders. "It's a distraction at least."

They sat in quiet comfort together.

Matthew joined Sybil and Tom on the floor and George scrabbled into his lap and pressed his arms around his father's waist.

The beatific smile on Matthew's face grew wider and wider as he felt his son's embrace. Could life get any better?

XX

Violet feigned sleep. Anything rather than appear as if she was enjoying Martha Levinson's crooning what she said was a true American Christmas song.

Which she wasn't. Enjoying that is. The woman was an absolute caterwauler.

 _Now the ground is white_ _  
_ _Go it while you're young,_ _  
_ _Take the girls tonight_ _  
_ _and sing this sleighing song;_ _  
_ _Just get a bobtailed_ _bay_ _  
_ _Two forty as his speed_ _  
_ _Hitch him to an open sleigh_ _  
_ _And crack! you'll take the lead_.'

And she insisted upon waltzing around the room, dodging the settee and moving around the chairs like it was a maze.

"Vulgar…" Violet sniffed and closed her eyes again.

 _Jingle bells, jingle bells,_ _  
_ _Jingle all the way._ _  
_ _Oh! what fun it is to ride_ _  
_ _In a one-horse open sleigh_.

Cora's stretched smile was wearing thin at the edges as she attempted to support her mother's holiday spirit. Robert looked like his was suffering from an undigested bit of beef resulting in more than a slight disorder of the stomach.

Sybil and Tom claimed the excuse of needed rest. Edith begged off as well and all of them retired early.

Isobel, whispering holiday felicitations to her son and daughter in law also managed to leave and go back to Crawley House.

Mary wondered how much longer before they could make their escape. When they were dressing for dinner earlier Mary had given Matthew another early Christmas present. A set of rather fine silver cufflinks. She also had some of his favorite classic books in Braille ready and wrapped under the tree for tomorrow. Matthew had taken the opportunity of privacy as well and told her to go over to his night stand and open the drawer. She had done so and found a beautifully wrapped package. Inside was a Cartier red leather gift box. She opened and found a filigree gold chain with two parallel pendants of diamonds suspended in asymmetrical lengths. She had admired the négligée necklace during a trip to London and Matthew had bought it without her knowing when she had returned to their hotel.

With her help Matthew had placed the necklace around her neck, taking the moment to place a soft kiss on the nape of her neck. "I'm so glad you like it."

Such a thoughtful gift. She was so very lucky. She mulled over these thoughts while on the settee with Matthew. Martha rather alarmingly swooped about the room. Mary turned to say something to Matthew who felt her presence and pressed his arms more firmly around her waist and snuggled closer. His cheek rested on hers.

He seemed oblivious to anything but her.

And suddenly Mary realized no one was paying them any attention. She allowed herself to melt into her husband's arms. He noticed her relaxed state and gave her cheek a kiss.

"Happy Christmas, darling," he whispered.

"The happiest ever." Mary replied. She closed her eyes and felt herself loved as never before.

XX

 _I've always resented that camera in s3ep2 never lingering on MM on the settee while Martha sang… so I fixed it in my story lol. I wish everyone the warmth of the holiday season and very soon a new chapter for the new year…some more Christmasing with George and the New Year's shoot and some drama with Martha over money.  
The Willow Tearooms is located in Glasgow. I couldn't resist that name _

2018/06/08/willow-tea-rooms-150-charles-rennie-mackintoshs-interior-design/


	33. Chapter 33

XX  
 **Christmas Day 1919**

The Crawleys gathered in the library on Christmas morning.

Martha and Violet exchanged gifts that both contained small gemstone brooches. They each gave the other a polite nod of the head. Anything more would have meant a cease fire in their ever-ongoing war of words.

Robert drank a cup of coffee poured by Carson as his wife opened his present of a landscape painting she had admired in a London gallery. Cora was very pleased and gave Robert a soft smile. They were standing close to the French doors leading down into the garden.

Edith handed Sybil a box which, when opened, included a whole set of infant clothing from hat to booties. They were hand stitched by Lady Brooke of Eaton Lodge, a well-connected seamstress in London known for her intricate designs of children's garments as well as someone who made sure those who worked under her had good wages.

"They are a little big," Edith said. "Room to grow."

Sybil gave her sister a warm embrace. "Thank you." She walked over to Tom to show them off. Edith and Tom were seated next to Matthew on the flared armed knole sofa. Mary was seated opposite alongside Isobel.

Matthew had some help from Tom opening the large gift Mary had placed on the floor before him. He rummaged through the box.

"Books!" He announced excitedly feeling along the creased edge of the object. He picked up one of them. As they were in Braille it was quite heavy. Sybil helped him place it on the table in front of him.

"Oh," He opened the volume and, using the index fingers of both the left and right hands simultaneously, read out the title. " _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_. Thank you darling."

Mary said, "You're welcome. Joseph was essential in finding those."

Matthew turned a page and began to read the opening passage of "A Scandal in Bohemia."

"How do you do that?" Sybil asked, fascinating by Matthew's fast-moving fingers.

Matthew smiled. "Years of practice. You have to have at least one finger of each hand moving across the dots. Both start at the top left and move together until they reach the middle. I use my right hand to continue across while I orient my left down a line to start the next one. When the right is finished the left starts to read then the right joins the left until they reach the middle again. It means you don't pause as much as you can read more words."

"I can see how that would help." Sybil said. "It's like a pas de deux as the fingers work together."

Their discussion was interrupted by George's squeal of delight. Mary had opened a package for him and with a wide eyed facial expressive of 'what could this be' she held up a little rocking horse on wheels with a string attachment.

"Neigh neigh!" Mary energetically vocalized the sounds of a horse as she dragged it with the string, the horse made a galloping motion which moved the rider atop the horse when she pulled it.

"He's looking Mary. Do it again." Sybil encouraged.

Mary turned the toy again in a large circle around her son as he sat on the carpeted floor.

George clapped his hands and tried his best to imitate the sounds "Niiii Niiii…" He couldn't quite get the proper noise from his throat but found what he was saying so funny he gave a full out belly laugh and then grunted loudly and pointed for Mary to continue.

"His Royal Highness speaks…" Matthew teased as he tried to interpret his son's sounds. He could hear the squeak of the wheels of the toy rocking horse and knew when Mary started and stopped. He was really glad his son liked the toy he and Mary found at a little toy shop in Cannes.

"I think I much prefer the real ones," Mary said dryly, as she once again got up and began to circle the room with the rocking horse.

George started to crawl, trailing the toy and trying to reach out and take it.

Matthew desperately wanted to see his wife go against all her patrician sense of propriety in public spaces and wave her arms and call out horse sounds to their almost one-year old son in the hopes of him repeating the words or getting up and taking a few steps towards the horsie. But giving into that despair was inconceivable at this time of his life. He had determined never to waste a moment of their shared life in thinking of what might have beens. Here and now was of upmost importance.

He bit his lip hard and willed back the tears that threatened to stream down his face, quickly wiping away the few that collected at the side of his eyes.

But not fast enough for his mother. She witnessed her son's internal trauma and understood his desire to keep it private. He would never want to call attention to himself.

She wouldn't give him away. But neither would she leave him to agonize on his own.

Isobel moved to the empty seat next to the sofa. "Georgie is the cheekiest little monkey, isn't he?" She said cheerfully. "Mary is barely keeping ahead of him."

Matthew, guessing his mother probably saw his pain but grateful she said nothing, pursed his lips tightly and closed his eyes to compose himself. He straightened back his shoulders and turned to his mother. "He's incorrigible…. "

He paused, and then with a budding smile added, "and I love it. I want him to get into all sorts of trouble."

"So do I," Isobel agreed with a soft, ironic laugh. "I would never have said that when you were a little one. My mother was a stern Presbyterian and I was always told children needed to be strictly disciplined in order to save their immortal soul as all were 'by nature brutish and devilish.'"

"I don't remember you ever adhering to that with me?" He furrowed in brow in thought. He had very few memories of his grandmother who died when he was six. "Though I do recall she was an intimidating figure of whom I was more a little scared."

"Your grandfather was on my side until his death. He had seen how I suffered from her constant need to control my every decision so he curbed her tendencies to push me to follow her example with you. Reggie was also of the more modern theory of childrearing that you needed to explore your world on your own terms. And, well my boy, you were an angel of a child." She broke off and added with a chuckle, "… most of the time. Mischievous to be sure and constantly asking so many questions. You were never satisfied with just being told one answer. You had to go discover the whole lot about it."

As the only child of a couple who had waited over ten years to be able to successfully conceive, Matthew had always felt a great deal of love from his own parents. Reggie's death had brought them even closer. Isobel could at times be overbearing at times but they were each other's only family until a very short time ago.

He reached out to squeeze his mother's hand. "I'm grateful for everything you and Father did for me."

"I know you are." Isobel took her son's hand.

"And I know you were disappointed by Dr. Macewan's prognosis." Matthew's lips tightened. "I liked his straightforwardness but I know it's not what you or Mary wanted to hear." They had stopped by Crawley House on their way back from the train station the day of the trip to Glasgow to inform his mother. She had taken it stoically, as Matthew knew she would.

"Mother's always want the best for their children. But really you are doing so well it's of no matter. Your new job at Harvill and Carter. Being director of a charity trust. Heir to a great estate. I really couldn't have asked for more for you. I'm so very proud. A wonderful husband to Mary and papa to my dear little grandson and the new one for the new year."

A sharp shiver raced up his spine at the mention of the new baby.

1920 would bring yet more changes to his life. Good, happy changes. Ones he looked forward to immensely.

XX

 **December 27, 1919**

Robert, Cora, and Martha had taken the previous morning train for London as Martha wanted to do some shopping at Harrod's and Selfridges. Leaving everyone at Downton feeling reprieved for the time being, they would stay only a few days, however, as even more guests were expected for the New Year's Eve celebration and the following day's pheasant and partridge shooting party.

Matthew returned to work two days after Christmas. He left in morning, kissing both George and Mary good-bye, to walk to the train station.

Sybil put her feet up on the settee in Mary and Matthew's sitting room reading a book. She had declined joining Tom and Mary in a walk earlier in the morning, preferring instead to rest.

Edith joined her after spending time with Anthony until his mid-morning nap. She took the seat next to Sybil and began to write out ideas for some articles she hoped to submit to _The Sketch_.

The baby squiggled in her belly, punching her stomach as if running out of room in her womb. She yelped, "Ouch! Soon little one, soon. I wish I could make it faster."

"I loved feeling the little kicks but when he began jabbing and punching, I felt like a losing opponent at a prize fight." Edith said, placing down her notebook.

"The last weeks are the hardest," Mary said from across the room, having arrived back from the walk eager to get started again on the accounts books. "I began to think Georgie kicked so hard just to remind me that he was keen to make his appearance."

"I am more than ready for it. Dr. Clarkson wants to see me every other day to monitor progress."

"Is he that worried?" Mary was to go with her sister tomorrow for the next appointment.

"I told him Dr. Grey at Adelaide Hospital in Dublin suspected preeclampsia because of the edema in my face and hands but which could also be typical of any pregnancy. But alongside my hypertension they've both agreed I needed to be monitored closely." She said all of this matter of factly. Being a nurse, Sybil had become inured to these type diagnoses. "I might have to stay the few days before the birth at the hospital."

Mary glanced at Tom who sat alongside her at the desk. He blanched slightly but said, "We're taking it one day at a time." Tom had agreed with Sybil that they shouldn't worry the family unnecessarily. He knew Sybil kept an outward calm demeanour but between themselves she fretted about making sure she did everything that was best for their unborn child.

Mary knew that look, however. The anxiety was etched in his furrowed brow and ashy appearance. He was keeping up the brave façade for Sybil's sake. She gave him a supportive gaze. He loved her sister so very much. She was very glad she had not stood in their way with regards to their decision to marry.

Even now he was proving his worth to the family by helping her make better sense of the accounting books. She was good on the maths but the larger farming and husbandry issues needed a more experienced eye. "He's growing barley and wheat. I'd say he'd do better with sheep," Tom said returning to their previous conversation.

During one of their shared dinners upstairs between the younger Crawley's and the Branson's, Tom had revealed that his grandfather had been a tenant sheep farmer in Galway where he had spent time as a young man. Matthew later asked Mary if she thought it was a good idea for Tom to help her with the accounting as the task had proven too much for one person.

She had agreed and after the walk Tom had joined her in the sitting room, the leather-bound accounts books stacked on Matthew's desk.

"I've told Matthew about some of the mismanagement issues. I think you will agree with him that we need to diversify more. Invest in new machinery, new techniques. I know Papa will oppose the idea of overhauling the whole estate, however. He'll see it as breaking faith with the old tenants."

Sybil interjected with a snort, "He doesn't mind changing sides when it suits him. Papa actually wants some Harley Street doctor, a Sir Philip Tapsell who's delivered lords and royal highnesses, to be consulted on the birth. I told him since we were in England Dr. Clarkson has known me since I was a child. I don't want a stranger."

Tom rolled his eyes. "We won't have that. And on the farms, give them the choice to stay on rent free for example. God knows that's a revolutionary idea to property owners but it would be cheaper and still allow Robert to extend his expected noblesse oblige."

Mary laughed. "That's just what Matthew said. The tenants struggle to pay rent, which is too low anyway, and have not actually farmed the land in some cases in over twenty years."

Sybil looked up, saying to everyone "Papa thinks he's above it all but the war has changed everything. He's stuck in the past."

Edith groaned. "He has to stop harkening back to a time when money was abundant and he didn't have to keep on top of all this. I remember Anthony and Matthew having a conversation last year with Papa where they tried to get him to address modernization. He wouldn't even listen."

"I know, I know. We'll approach Papa about it after we're all in agreement on the best plan. Maybe after the new year's shooting party is over. Perhaps even wait for Grandmama to return to Newport…."

"What is it Mary?" Edith saw her sister's eyes beetle back and forth as she spoke. "I can tell you have something up your sleeve?"

Mary threw her sister a look but confessed, "I do. I think we should approach Grandmama for help. She's made of money and that way Papa won't have to feel as if he's betraying family tradition."

"Have you told Mama or Granny about this?" Sybil sounded doubtful. "Grandmama Levinson doesn't seem likely to give anything to Papa. They're barely speaking as it is."

"Granny thinks it's worth a try. She said we must act while she's visiting to help her believe it's her duty to save Downton and its role in the community. If she goes back home it would be impossible."

Tom thought it was a terrible idea. And so must Matthew. If Mary's told him that is… "What does Matthew think about it?" He ventured to ask.

Mary gave a wry grin and admitted "I've not told him of the plan yet. I was waiting for the right moment."

"I don't think he'll agree to it at all," Sybil said vehemently. "He'll say we're trying to fleece her."

"Which we are if you and Granny go through with it," Edith added. "I much prefer presenting a coherent plan to Papa to save the estate on our own."

"And have him think we're all ganging up on him? I don't like that either," Mary countered. "He'll just resist."

"Oh Mary you're too much like him in keeping up traditions. If you make Matthew and Tom do this on their own he will dig in and feel hounded, but if you demonstrate true support he'll listen."

"We should have a family meeting once we have everything together." Sybil shifted on the settee. "Papa will have to see the truth of the situation."

Mary's ears perked up at that. "Does it mean you and Tom are going to stay on here for the foreseeable future?" That would be wonderful, she thought to herself. She and Matthew had high hopes of them staying on.

Sybil gave her husband a look. Would now be the time to tell her?

Tom nodded and said to Mary, "Matthew's offered me a job at Downton Hall as Director of Operations and a seat on the Board of Trustees representing the organization."

Mary knew Matthew had made the offer. The job was perfect for Tom. And her husband needed any ally on the Board of Trustees. She only had an at large seat because of her many other obligations. Matthew had added a couple of London parvenu money makers to the Swire Trust Board to help with the financing end of things as well as two of the more charitably inclined local members of the aristocracy.

"I think it's wonderful. I hope you're going to take it."

Tom smiled. "We discussed it again last night and agreed that I'll tell Matthew I will accept the job offer."

"Matthew will be so pleased. And we're thrilled that you're remaining in England."

"If it was just me, I'd want to be in Ireland and be a part of it all but…" Tom gave his wife a loving look. "It's best we stay for the time being where Sybil and the baby are safe."

Sybil knew that had been a hard choice but glad he had been able to overcome his doubts about living under the same roof as Robert to make the decision to stay. She liked hearing him reaffirm their choice.

"Have you told Mama and Papa?" Edith asked.

"I'm going to talk with Matthew when he returns from Ripon this afternoon and then Sybil will tell her parents."

"A true New Year's celebration then." Edith reached out to take Sybil's hand. "I need all the possible good news and this fills the bill nicely."

Mary couldn't have said it better.

XX

 **December 30, 1919**

Robert, after taking a sip of his after-dinner sherry, continued talking to his wife. "Charlie's boasting he's purchased two pairs of Purdey specials just for the occasion. Given how he's more likely to take out four beaters with the double barrels than shoot a bird I think I'll have to fiddle the draw and put him on the outside that way he can't do much harm."

"Is he speaking English?" Martha murmured to Isobel, seated to her right on the sofa facing the music room's fireplace. "It's just the same with Cora's brother. His _idee fixe_ now is yachts…bigger ones or faster ones? Something to do with yachts."

"That is Harold?" Isobel asked, not really sure how to respond as Martha never seemed to listen to what anyone else said.

"Correct. He hates leaving America."

"He hates to leave and I would hate to go," Granny tittered at her own witticism.

"But isn't the bond between the Levinson's and the Crawley's stronger than ever?" Mary asked, taking advantage of the moment. "It's marvelous the way our families support each other."

"You needed the Levinson cash to keep the Crawley's on top you mean?"

"I'm not sure I'd put it that way," Mary faltered but then plunged in anyway. "I do hope you feel Mama's fortune has been well spent in shoring up an ancient family."

"You gotta spend it on somethin'," Martha spoke, dropping into American slang.

Mary wouldn't let her have the last word. "We maintain Downton to the highest tradition."

But Martha riposted, "I prefer to spend money on the future rather than the past."

"As you have every right." Cora said sharply, giving her daughter an angry glare. "You should not have to do more."

"Thank you, dear. If income is tight why not just move to a smaller house I say. Why continue with the bother of it all?"

"That's not how it's done," Mary couldn't resist.

"It is if you have to. My income may be generous but I cannot touch the capital."

Mary sank back into her armchair, giving her granny a defeated look.

Violet was impressed at her granddaughter's tenacity but Martha was a tough nut to crack.

"Both our husbands tied money up before they were taken."

"Lord Grantham wasn't taken," Violet answered tersely, hating her use of the polite society euphemism. "He died."

Martha shrugged. "In any event he believed the Crawley family had quite enough. Besides, take something away from an American gal, the way to deal with the world is not to ignore it."

The matter was at an end.

Matthew, seated across the room in one of the armchairs, heard the exchange but didn't know what to make of it. Mary seemed to be going off on a scheme of her own to help finance the estate's woes. Taking in all the voices Mary's sounded strained and increasingly desperate. Her mother retorted with a severity he had never heard from Cora but she was defending her own mother. Martha, either from being opinionated and affectless or far slyer than anyone gave her credit, defended herself from a position of strength.

She had something they supposedly wanted.

He did not want it. He didn't expect anything from Martha Levinson.

But neither did he interfere. If Mary wanted to give this a try, he would not stand in her way. But from the sound of the discussion, it was a losing effort.

Interrupted from his musings by the lovely swishing sound of his wife's chiffon gown, he looked up.  
"Darling…"

Mary sat down on the sofa near Matthew's chair. "I presume you took all of that in."

Did she sound just a tad chastised? He wouldn't let on he heard. "As you say Martha is rather a force of nature."

"I feel like a draggled piece of debris after a wind-swept storm. She won't budge at all. I am sorry I didn't consult you first but I plunged in at the first opportunity."

Matthew's lips twitched amusedly. "You are a storm braver. It was a good show anyway."

Mary sighed.

"May I join you?" Granny Violet asked.

"Please…" Mary shifted on the sofa.

She eased down onto the seat. "I agree. You did well in taking that woman on. Even if it was unsuccessful."

"Matthew does not concur. Isn't that correct? You would rather we make Father change with the times. I thought I could avoid a confrontation with him by finding a way around with my grandmama."

"I think we must be ready to do battle when the balloon goes up I'm afraid darling," using a war expression, Matthew gently patted his hand on her knee.

"When will that be?" Mary asked sardonically. "When the taxes come due and there's no money to pay them?"

"Don't be defeatist dear," Violet said pithily. "It's very middle class,"

Matthew snorted dryly. "The middle classes have their virtues. Especially those who have a plan to save the bacon of their supposed betters."

Violet always took delight in a polite zinger. She nodded sagaciously. "Touché my dear boy. Touché."

They all sat quietly as Martha began telling yet another involved story regarding some relation in America.

"When will she go?" Violet muttered. "Cora should really have gotten her to understand the importance of settling departure dates."

Mary and Matthew giggled surreptitiously, both recalling Mary saying her granny would say just that even before Martha arrived.

"And more to come for the New Year's shoot," Violet added morosely. "That odious man. How could Rosamund have married him?"

Matthew's lip suddenly turned down into a frown at the recollection that Richard Carlisle had yet to make his appearance. How indeed?

XX

 **New Year's Eve 1919**

It was tradition to wait for midnight but after a particularly arduous day at Harvill and Carter Matthew longed for it to be over.

He yawned, putting his hand in front of his face trying to hide his boredom. He knew Violet loathed such a display of bad manners, having said once to Tom who questioned outdated rituals that "without them we would be like the wild men of Borneo." At the time Matthew had refrained from countering with Rousseau's "nothing is so gentle as man in his primitive state, when placed by nature at an equal distance from the stupidity of brutes and the fatal enlightenment of civil man." He figured, with an inward smirk, that she wouldn't appreciate it.

Though as he had gotten to know Violet, he realized she was a contradictory soul. Stuck in the past one moment, then thoroughly modern the next. He rather loved her contrariness. Much like he did his wife's. She was very much like her grandmother. Both of them as a matter of fact. As tenacious as Martha and as sharp as Violet.

Mary was everything to him.

Even now he admired her diplomatic skill in navigating a civil conversation with Richard Carlisle keeping to the neutral subject of the shoot the next day. It was beyond him to try to even hide his dislike of the man. Mary would say he wasn't born to it like her. At times like this he was glad of it. He'd leave her to deal with him.

The more cynical side of his nature also concluded he could get away with quietly sitting in a corner of the room because no one wanted to engage in light talk with the blind man as he made them uncomfortable. The guests were mostly an assortment of titled neighbours and government acquaintances of Robert's from the House of Lords.

"I'm glad to see you've recovered your health since the last time we met."

The voice was familiar and welcome. They had last met in London after returning with Mary from Cannes. They had gone to some kind of charity event where one of his blinding headaches had incapacitated.

"Mr. Pelham," Matthew said, recalling the name. He stood up.

"Bertie please." He took Matthew's outstretched hand.

"The headaches are a wretched side effect of my condition. But for now they are in abeyance. I hope it continues as I've just started a new job."

"Mary said you passed the Law Society exam and have started at a firm in Ripon. I say that's marvelous. I've left the army permanently to take up a position with my cousin as agent."

"I wish you success. These days are not the easiest for estates such as Brancaster or Downton."

"Indeed."

Each knew the other was the unexpected distant cousin heir to a vast inheritance. It would be upon their heads the future lay.

"I see the entire family is in residence this holiday," Bertie ventured. "Lady Sybil and her husband. Lady Edith…"

Matthew thought he detected a slight hint of interest there. "It's been good for all of us to be together. Are you shooting tomorrow? I think Mary wants Edith to go out with her and Rosamund to stand with the party. Get her out of the house and into some fresh air."

Would Bertie take the bait?

He did so. "That would be nice. Maybe I'll suggest she can stand with me. I would like the company."

Matthew smiled and simply nodded an acknowledgement. Bertie was a good man. Edith had kept herself virtually shuttered at Strallan Hall and, although more than most he could sympathize with her grief, he also knew such emotional isolation was not a good thing.

They both looked over as Robert tapped his flute. "The new year will be rung in very soon. Everyone take a glass."

Bertie and Matthew stood. Carson walked over and Bertie took a glass. Mary walked over and took another to give to Matthew.

The clock chimed midnight and everyone called out "Happy New Year."

Matthew quietly said, "Happy New Year, darling."

Mary returned the felicitation. Each took a sip from the champagne.

Bertie bade his farewell and made his way over to Edith.

Isobel walked towards the younger Crawley's. "1920. Is it to be believed? My goodness."

"As long as there is peace it will be a good year." Matthew said.

"Amen," his mother murmured. "I will be back to France soon to help again with the Red Cross. Still so much to do."

Mary asked, "you'll be back before the birth?"

"Oh yes. I will be making a circuit from France to Belgium back to London. I hope to be back in England by March."

Matthew knew his mother liked to be kept busy. As he listened to their conversation, however, he couldn't help but yawn again.

Mary witnessed and took pity. "I think we'll be off upstairs. A long day tomorrow."

"I will say my good-byes."

"We'll walk you to the door." Matthew said, grateful to his wife that they could retire at last.

After kissing his mother good-night they walked up the red staircase to the nursery to see George in his cot, whisper a happy new year, and then strolled to the door of their bedroom. Matthew said he'd be in directly and, using the wall as a guide, made his way to the next door dressing room.

After Lang helped him out of the evening suit and into his pyjamas and robe, Matthew opened the door to their bedroom. Mary was finishing her ablutions and invited him over to take his usual seat by her night table.

He reached out and she took his hand to guide him. He felt the arm of the chair and sat down with a grunt of satisfaction.

"Thank you darling for keeping Carlisle at arm's length. I was quite too exhausted to engage in a game of verbal jousting."

"All he wanted was insight into the other guns. He's keen to bag the most birds. Typical of him." Mary pronounced. "I can stay in tomorrow you know. I don't have to walk."

Matthew shook his head. "No. It's fine. You must be seen to do your duty. I will stay the morning at Downton but I must get back to Ripon before lunch to finish some work. I am behind because it takes me longer to write up my reports."

Mary started to say that he would be expected for luncheon out in the field, but realized he would feel completely emasculated by having to ride with the women while all the men were shooting. This was his way of getting around it.

"I'll be home for dinner."

"After all this is over and Grandmama's returned to Newport or New York City or wherever she's living at the moment we should take ourselves away to a swank hotel in London as a reward for being on such good behaviour for ever such a long time."

"An excellent suggestion. I will book us into the Savoy, shall I?" He reached out and she took his hand.

"Delicious," Mary said. "And I might just have a Christmas present that inexplicably got lost on the day. I will unwrap it for you when we're in London."

"Intriguing," Matthew's tone was decadent chocolate. "I can't wait. The anticipation alone will see me through."

Mary slowly stroked her fingernails up his arm. "Darling trust me when I say I'm quite sure anticipation will only be half the fun."

XX

 **New Year's Day 1920**

Matthew paced before the library fireplace. He was tired of sitting and needed to stretch his legs. Mary had left with Cora, Edith, and Rosamund to meet the men out in the park. Sybil was upstairs resting. Tom was at Downton Hall speaking with Trevor about the details of the job he'd just accepted. That most pleased Matthew. They'd really get things going once Tom was on board.

Violet wasn't expected until dinner.

He heard footsteps.

"Ah Matthew. Alone at last."

Martha. He knew she also remained at Downton. As she said the previous night, "walking in the cold and damp merely to gaze upon the male of the species shooting at things" didn't interest her at all. Why couldn't the women participate? Robert had tried to explain that sometimes they were allowed but Martha had stopped listening.

"Martha."

He heard her take a seat on the knole sofa. "Do explain to me again how exactly you are related?"

Somehow he knew this was coming. He was the interloping heir to her fortune and now he was to be called on the carpet.

"My great-great-grandfather was a younger son of the third Earl."

"I'm going to have to write that down. It's too many greats for me to take in."

Matthew laughed awkwardly, trying to think of something to say. "It is funny, isn't it?"

"Not everyone shares your sense of humour."

He sighed. "I didn't exactly ask for it."

"Ah 'some have greatness thrust upon them' …isn't that Shakespeare or is it Marlowe?"

"Shakespeare," Matthew answered through gritted teeth. "Twelfth Night. I only meant the inheritance came as a surprise. I will do my best to be a good custodian of Cora's money."

"Mary was very game to insinuate so boldly last night her wish that I contribute again. Do you intend to follow up on that?"

"No," he answered tersely. "Mary did what she thought was right. She's very loyal to her family."

"Admirable. No don't get me wrong. I admire her pluck. It made me realize just how much in the thick of it the Crawley's are."

"It will work out," Matthew spoke as tactfully as possible.

"Violet mentioned your other turn of good fortune."

"I wouldn't use those terms." Matthew shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. "I was the unexpected beneficiary of a will after the tragic death of two dearly beloved friends." He really didn't want to explain about Lavinia to Mary's grandmother.

"I see. She just said you inherited your own money from another source. I have to say I was impressed when she mentioned the creation of a charity trust to benefit those similarly afflicted as yourself. That speaks very highly of you."

Matthew was thrown by that. He had expected to be grilled. "It is vital we never forget those who gave the best of themselves in the war."

"Do you have any thoughts on how to save Downton? I suspect Mary's was only an alternate plan to save Robert from having to relinquish his grasp on the past."

The giddy, featherbrained act hid a much shrewder mind Matthew concluded. This Martha he could talk to on an equal footing.

"We do as a matter of fact. Mary's work analyzing the estate account books has yielded several ideas regarding consolidation and modernization. We hope to present a plan shortly to Robert that would not only allow us to pay the increased taxes and insurance but invest in needed refurbishments. I will add money to this end from my own funds."

"I'm pleased to hear that. I now know Downton not only stands, it will endure."

"I very much hope so." Matthew said earnestly. "For the children and their children."

"You and Mary are a formidable team. I take my leave believing the future is in good hands."

Matthew bowed his head. "Thank you," hardly believing those words of praise coming from someone who seemed to have very little positive to say about anything. He couldn't wait to tell Mary all about it. She would be all astonishment.

He was in quite the good mood preparing to leave for Ripon to tackle the last of the conveyancing documents he had to prepare for his first client. Mr. Harvill intended to look over it in the morning to make sure all was in order.

And then he'd be free to take Mary to London.

Private time at last.

What a happy new year.

XX  
 _So some fun in London for our MM. They deserve it! I hope you liked Christmas and New Year's at Downton. Tom and Sybil are staying! Martha's so fun to write. Thank you for reading and reviewing. Reviews to writers are the best kind of gifts… from the heart of the readers. Many many thanks._


	34. Chapter 34

XX

Mary noticed the sign as she strolled through the lobby of the Savoy.

" _ **Learn the latest fad! Lessons in the Shimmy Shake in the ballroom at 2pm!  
All guests are welcome!  
Don't be the one left behind!"**_

She had the time to kill. When they parted at Charing Cross station that morning after arriving in London on the mid-morning train, Matthew said he wouldn't be back until later in the afternoon.

Mary understood. It couldn't be helped really. Getting to London so rarely these days meant he couldn't escape a meeting with the solicitor in charge of Trust matters. He also wanted to see Sam and Joseph. His friend never made it to Yorkshire over the holidays and Matthew wanted to make sure everything was all right with Sam's health.

"But," he said lingering over a last daringly public kiss, "as soon as I do, we will commence our entirely frivolous week end."

Matthew gave his wife a cheeky wink.

She whispered in his ear, "I will wait with bated breath."

It was then Mary saw Anna sitting on a bench, having already taken an earlier train to meet them at the station. She motioned to Mary towards the cab.

"Off with you now," Mary squeezed his arm. "Here's Anna. She's got a taxi for you ready at the kerb."

After seeing Matthew to the cab, Anna returned to Mary who was now standing beside their luggage. Anna was to make sure the train porters collected their bags and removed them to the Savoy and the suite of rooms Matthew had reserved for their stay.

Mary had taken a taxi to Madame Coutreau's. She wanted to give Matthew his present tonight but it needed some decorative additions. After consultation with the vendeuse, she arranged with the head seamstress to make the alterations and additions Mary requested.

After spending an hour or so selecting other materials for a new gown, the vendeuse said her package was ready. They showed her the finished product already beautifully packaged in a box with a bow.

She loved it.

Matthew would be driven wild.

Now, looking at the advertisement for dance instructions, she was in a mood to entice and seduce even more. Dancing and nightclubbing were all the rage with the young set of London society. And while it wouldn't do for a person of her position…and erm…condition to be seen out until the wee hours of the morning, she wanted to be a little part of it all.

With a wicked grin Mary decided. No more waltzes. She would get ' _with the rage and learn the shimmy shake.'_

XX

Matthew had a full morning, managing to get all three of his appointments completed in time to meet Mary for dinner in their suite. Something he was looking forward to immensely.

The visit with the solicitor was productive as Mr. Miller finalized his most current will to include the addition of the child to be born in the summer.

They finished, shook hands, and Miller led him back to the front with Matthew taking his arm. "Hail Mr. Crawley a taxi will you Baines?"

"Right away," the young man said. He moved to stand closer.

Matthew shook Miller's hand and switched to take the clerk's shoulder. "Lead on."

"I'm opening the door, sir. I'll lock it in place so you'll be able to follow me out to the pavement."

"Thank you." Matthew felt a whoosh of brisk winter wind as the door opened.

The two walked out the door and down to the kerb.

"My brother's at St. Dunstan's. He's double injured in that not only was he gassed and is mostly blind, he suffered wounds to his hands which limits his grip and touch."

Matthew grimaced. "That is particularly tough given how much we rely on our hands to replace the sense of sight. I know they're doing wonders though."

"They are indeed. He's been given special treatments. But he's also learned practical skills. Do you know Miss Knutford?"

"I do. She works marvels. Invented a new typewriter. Does your brother use that?" Matthew had met her when he worked at St. Dunstan's in 1917. Even then she had been hard a work adapting a Remington typewriter by affixing levers on the shift keys and fitting supports to carry a larger roll of paper at the back.

"Yes. It's allowed him to get a job in a printing office of all places."

"Marvelous." Matthew loved hearing success stories. "Wish him all the best."

"I will. Here's your cab, sir."

Matthew felt the door frame and reached his cane out to feel for the running board to step inside.

Once seated he said, "Thames Ditton High Street. The AC Motor Works factory, please." Matthew told the cabbie.

The cabbie nodded and set off.

The car salesman, Oscar Manning, had telephoned while Matthew was still at Downton that the AC 6-cylinder two-seater was ready for pick up. Now that he was in London he would swing by the dealer, pay for the car, and ask that it be driven to the Savoy Hotel while he got back in the taxi and went to visit his friends.

That task done, he arrived in good time at the elegant terraced houses at the north end of Portland Place. Joseph had given him the address to his new set of rooms when Matthew telephoned that he was to be in London on Friday. The Park Crescent rooms were very close to Marylebone Road and Regent's Park as Joseph wanted to be close to work at St. Dunstan's and had been snagged in a deal with the Crown Estate Commissioners through his father, heir to several London ground leased properties. Sam had moved in after being discharged from London General just past the new year making Joseph's non-appearance in Yorkshire understandable.

The news regarding Sam's eyes had been encouraging. The swelling had gone down considerably and the infection had been halted so Sam's artificial eyes were to be placed in a fortnight. For the time being he was still bandaged.

Matthew could tell Sam was putting on something of the 'hale fellow well met' act in front of Matthew. His hand had a tremor when he shook Matthew's hand and he was almost too animated in his conversation for his old school friend. They had talked pleasantries and Matthew had caught them up on his growing boy. "George is just about walking Mary says. When we get back I'm going to camp out in the nursery to make sure I don't miss a thing."

"When Sam's up to it we're definitely headed for your Hall. The fencers are itching to get at their lessons Trevor says, and he'd heard Sam was choral prefect and sang at St. George's Chapel as a boy soprano while at Harrow so he wanted to know if he'd give a go at creating one for them."

"Splendid idea," Matthew declared. "I heard Sam sing at Cambridge as well. It was Elgar I think…"

"After my voice dropped and I lost my upper range," Sam said, and added diffidently, "I'm so out of practice I'll sound like a rusty gate."

Matthew tried to be encouraging. "I'll look forward to hearing the concert old chap."

Sam gave a wan smile. "I'm a bit done in. I think I'll go lie down." He gingerly raised himself from the settee. Joseph reached over to help, but Sam refused. "I can do it myself."

Matthew heard the petulant tone. It was reminiscent of the voice he used with his mother when she was too cloying.

Best to leave them to sort it out he thought. "I've got to be on my way, anyway." Matthew rose but stood by his chair until he heard Sam's cane scratch the floor past him on his way to his room.

Joseph heaved a sigh when he heard Sam's door click close. "He'll be all right soon enough. I think once his eyes are in, he'll pick up."

"He's always been a bit prone to bouts of blackness. And being in the thick of the hell of Passchendaele Ridge as he was…" Matthew choked up a bit. As one of his oldest friends, Sam's welfare was truly important to him.

Joseph reached out and felt for Matthew's shoulder and gave it a press. "Having you here was good for him. He's rarely been out of his room since moving in. It might be some effort to get him to Yorkshire."

"If anyone can do it you can." Matthew said. "I am glad he has you."

"Thank you, Matthew. It means a lot to have your support."

Matthew put his cane out in front of him, "I told Mary I'd be back in time to dress for dinner and I've a bit of a surprise in store for her so I want to see if the man from the dealership managed to get the car out front of the Savoy like I hoped."

"I say, a car?"

Matthew grinned. "I bought Mary the latest AC. I know it's a bit extravagant but she loves to drive and this way she can get around, visit Edith or whoever when she wants without having to ask Robert." Matthew justified the purchase in his own head that he was using his new income as a solicitor to pay for the vehicle rather than dip into the Trust funds.

"I'll have to have a ride along then when I'm in York." Joseph moved ahead and felt for the door handle. He opened it. "Give your wife my best wishes."

"I shall." Matthew felt for the door frame, hitting it with his cane to make sure it was open. "Good-bye."

Joseph said, "My man Foxe would see you out and get you a cab but it's his morning off."

"I'll be fine." Matthew walked down the front steps and put his dark glasses on as he stuck his hand out to hail a cab. He always felt a certain unease, fearing no cab would be in the vicinity. Sometimes a kindhearted stranger helped out but most times he wanted to do it on his own.

This day he heard the screech of tires as a car braked right in front of him.

"Need to go somewhere, sir?"

Matthew leaned down to what he assumed was the car window. "The Savoy, please."

"Right you are."

Matthew heard the cabbie get out and walk around. He opened the door for Matthew. He maneuvered carefully inside and sat back against the seat and removed his dark glasses. They had been pinching and he needed to see the optician for an adjustment.

But that would have to be put off for the time being. He was eager to get back to Mary.

The cab pulled up in front of the hotel. Matthew leaned forward and paid and then reached for the handle to get out. He felt for the running board with his cane and stepped outside.

The concierge, Frank Price, met Matthew. "The man from AC parked the car over here, sir. He said you'd be along and to tell you it had arrived."

"Very good." Matthew had already introduced himself to Price upon their initial arrival at the hotel in the morning. He found it was very useful to inform hotel employees about his blindness so they would not be caught off guard should he need some extra help. "No word to my wife, correct?"

"Not so much as a whisper," Price reassured. "All strictly hush hush."

XX

"I'm expecting him back within the hour. He was visiting his lawyer and seeing his friends who've moved in to new rooms near St. Dunstan's."

Mary spoke into the telephone receiver in the sitting area of their hotel suite.

"No, no he thought it best he go alone given Sam's condition."

Speaking with Sybil she could also hear Edith and Tom in the background. Edith had stayed at Downton after the New Year to be with Sybil to ease's Cora worry as she had to travel back to Liverpool with her mother to see Martha off, on the _Mauretania_ back to America.

"What's the news for you?"

"Completely suffocated by everyone's hovering."

"Darling it's for the best."

Mary could almost hear her sister roll her eyes. "I can't wait for this to be over. My back hurts. My head aches. My ankles are swelling," Sybil grumbled. "Something better happen soon."

Mary heard Tom say something she couldn't distinguish then her sister came back on the line. "I'm going to hand the telephone to Edith, Tom and I had a walk planned while the sun is shining."

She heard her sister's hesitation so added swiftly, "Dr. Clarkson said some fresh air was fine. Don't mother hen."

Mary had to smile. "You know we all will anyway. Go ahead. I'll see you soon as we'll be back tomorrow night."

"Take your time. You and Matthew don't get much time alone."

"He wants to get back in case George walks without him!" Mary laughed. "But we're having a wonderful time."

"Tom is ready. Give my best to Matthew."

Mary heard a shuffle as the handle was given to Edith and a muffled good bye and the close of a door.

Edith came on the line, "Hello Mary."

"So now that she's away, how is Sybil really? I know you went with her to Dr. Clarkson today."

Edith settled down on the sofa. "Tom went as well. He hovered in the waiting room while we went in. Dr. Clarkson wants her at the hospital by Monday. Sybil has agreed as did Tom readily, but Papa is still insistent on that Sir Philip had recommended a home birth to avoid infection."

"Dr. Clarkson disagreed I'm sure?"

"He's trying to be diplomatic. Dr. Clarkson tells Papa that 'Lady Sybil is a perfect model of health and beauty' because you know Papa feels uncomfortable around the medical details."

"But…" Mary interjected.

"Right…but the doctor wants to monitor her blood pressure and urine. He wants to make sure she's not producing too much albumin and becoming toxaemic."

Mary blanched, her body shivered in fear for her sister. "What's his advice?"

"He wants her at the hospital and deliver the child by Caesarean section."

"Isn't it too early?"

"No. The baby might be a little untimely but for Sybil's own health it's for the best."

Mary intuitively touched her own belly. She'd have her own second child in the summer and so far, she had a far easier time of it than with George.

"Tom and Sybil have the last word, of course. They're already preparing for her hospital stay. I don't want to worry you unduly, she's looking much better today and was eager to go on the walk. By the time you get back things will be well underway."

"Papa will just have to live with it. I'm sure they've made the right decision."

"Mama and Granny think so. Granny is staying on as well. Not wanting to get the news second hand as she says."

"I'll see you tomorrow. I hear a knock on the door. Anna's not here so I need to see if Matthew might need some assistance."

Mary hung the receiver on the stand and walked towards the sitting room door. Anna, once she had finished unpacking her overnight case, had the rest of the day off. Mary had told her could consider her time her own until she was needed the next day to help affix Lady Mary's hair for the trip back to Yorkshire. Matthew had not taken Lang at all, he was under the weather and Matthew really did want most of their time away to be in privacy.

She opened the door to see a porter. "Yes?"

"Mr. Crawley requests your presence downstairs, madam."

Mary furrowed her brow. "Really? Anything the matter?"

"Not for me to say, madam," the young man said primly. "Mr. Price just said to tell you you're requested."

"Very well. I'll be down directly."

Mary closed the door and fetched her coat from the wardrobe. What could it be?

She opened the door and walked down towards the elevator and down to the lobby. She looked around.

The concierge approached. "Lady Mary. Your husband is outside. If you would follow me, please."

Mary would normally have been worried at not seeing him in the lobby, but the smile on the man's face told her a different story.

Did Matthew also have a surprise?

She followed the concierge through the glass door and out onto the pavement.

Mr. Price pointed towards the right, tipped his hat, and stepped aside.

Mary looked in the expected direction and spied Matthew, relaxing stylishly against a car. An enigmatic yet beautiful smile on his face. He kept glancing around, head forward, straining she knew to hear her step.

Why was he leaning against that open topped blue car? The one that so damnably matched his eyes.

She approached. Whether it was the rush of pedestrians or the pounding noise of London motor traffic that caused him not hear she didn't know but she took him by complete surprise. "Matthew?"

He spun his head in her direction. "There you are!" The grin got bigger. "What do you think?"

"Of what?"

His lips twitched delightfully. "Your new car darling."

Mary's eyes grew wide. "Really? I… I had no idea." She eyed the car again. "It's simply gorgeous."

"Good," Matthew said, looking pleasingly satisfied at pulling off the surprise.

"Matthew darling. Thank you." She gave her husband a kiss on his cheek. "I can't wait to take it out."

He then explained, "I wanted you to see the AC as soon as the purchase was finalized. The dealer is going to have a driver round in the morning and take it back for a final check over and polishing and then deliver it to Downton next week. He'll stay the day to give you some driving pointers as the lay out of the gears and mechanisms is different than the Vauxhall."

"I see. Let's sit in it at least while its here."

Matthew reached down to feel the handle of the driver side and opened the door. "After you m'lady."

Mary laughed and got in. She watched as he glided his hand around the car, feeling the edge of the door frame and then the roof cover and then the left side of the car. Reaching for the passenger handle he clicked and opened the door.

Matthew eased onto the seat. He held out his hand for Mary to take. She slipped her gloved hand into his.

"Cosy. Just how I like it." Matthew squeezed her fingers lightly. "I knew you'd love it. You can now drive without having to take out one of the family's cars."

Mary was astonished at the gift. He had been so down about not being to drive himself after the onset of his blindness and now to show her that he was completely at ease with her taking the wheel moved her to tears. But she didn't let on. She didn't go in for public displays and knew he'd not want her to make a great deal about his change of attitude.

But it meant everything to her that he trusted her so.

"It's more than I ever expected. Perhaps my surprise won't be much after all."

He gave her a side eyed glance. "I doubt that very much my dear. As a matter of fact, I can't wait to get upstairs for you to model it for me. Is it silk? Maybe a Chinese inspired print robe?"

Mary leaned over, wickedly murmuring "And how did you know it was lingerie? Have you been dreaming about it?"

Matthew's lips puckered even as his cheeks charmingly flamed red as he was caught out. "Indeed I have, my darling. I remember the one you wore on our honeymoon. It clung to you in the most delicious places." He pitched his voice dark and intimate, "besides what else would it be that you couldn't show it off in front of the family?"

"Come upstairs…" Mary responded with a breathy pause, "….and I'll show you why."

Matthew reached for the door handle immediately.

XX

The bus boy knocked to retrieve the serving trays on the wheeled cart that he had brought up to their suite an hour before.

Mary had rung that they were finished and needed everything cleared away.

Matthew moved from the table at the curtained window to a more comfortable chair near the fireplace.

Sipping from the champagne flute, he heard Mary close the door then a rustle as she approached his chair.

"Are we ready?" she crooned as her mouth grazed his and her hand slipped down the front of his shirt to tickle his chest.

"At your leisure, darling." He leaned into this kiss, making it harder as his lips crushed into her own.

Matthew listened carefully to the swish of her organdy gown as she sashayed away from his chair. He knew she did that deliberately so he could hear everything.

The increasingly enticing sounds of her undressing followed.

"Is it similar to the other one?"

Mary, on the other side of the bed near the wardrobe, said, "it is similar in that it's a Chinese coral satin patterned robe. But the rest is...erm… of a more modern style."

Matthew hummed part of the tune he had heard drifting up from the Savoy ballroom below and to the left of their room.

Then he remembered something he had learned while at Cambridge. He softly delivered the words

 _She walks in beauty, like the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
And all that's best of dark and bright  
Meet in her aspect and her eyes…_

He hesitated, forgetting the rest of that stanza. Mary stopped dressing, entranced by his evocative recitation

He picked up the thread again

 _Had half impaired the nameless grace  
Which waves in every raven tress,  
Or softly lightens o'er her face;  
Where thoughts serenely sweet express  
How pure, how dear their dwelling place._

"You speak the words so beautifully," Mary said. "Did you perform that school?"

"Not as such," Matthew answered. "I read Byron in a course on Romantic Poetry but I learned it by heart on the advice of a flat mate to woo women." His deep chuckle was tinged in irony.

"Why does that hurt you?" Mary noticed the wince of pain that crossed his face. She moved closer to him.

"Oh it doesn't anymore, darling. Not really. It's just that I never had opportunity to use poetry. I had very little success with any kind of courting when I was younger. I had only one occasion to use any kind of poetic enticement at a party and she immediately dropped me like a hot potato when she realized I was blind."

She gasped sympathetically and yet knew, in her own past, she might have done much the same.

So much had changed since they were first together.

"She didn't know what she was missing," Mary answered.

He turned to his wife, knowing how she regretted her past dismissal of him. "I probably was to blame. I was quite gloomy and sullen most of the time. Life has a way to making you realize what's important and what's not."

"Granny said much the same to me during the war. We've all been made different by it."

"Come here…" Matthew gently reached out his arms to take her into his lap. Her robe was silky thin, he felt her rounded thigh under the sheath of fabric as she lay across his body. She snuggled close.

"I love these metallic embellishments." Matthew felt along her abdomen. "They're cords, right?"

"Yes. I had them added this morning to give it a more tactile feel. I know how you like that."

"Hmmm…" his fingers handled the gold and silver lame cords. "It's also got raised stitches. What is the pictorial design?"

"It's a theme of eight figures in various pastoral scenes. It's all silk floss. I love it so much."

"Ooooh…. So do I…" His hand opened the robe, reached down to stroke her belly, to connect to the child within.

He felt her warm skin. She was unclothed beneath the robe. "What's this? I thought you had on a new negligée?" He felt upwards towards her breasts. They were covered in a kind of supportive undergarment.

Mary giggled. "It's the newest thing. Getting rid of corsets and instead using these bust bodices or _soutien-gorge_ as the vendeuse called it. It's supposed to have been invented in America by a socialite, Mary Phelps Jacobs, though the French claim they had one as far back as the 1880s. Whatever it's called it's so much more comfortable."

"I must say I approve as well." He felt each cup of the brassiere softly and slowly. He began to slowly massage each breast.

The massaging caused Mary to sink even lower and closer to Matthew's body.

They clung to each other.

"It umm… frees at the back."

"What a brilliant invention…" Matthew's hand slipped around her back and untied the strands of ribbon holding it in place.

Once released from her upper constraints, she luxuriated in Matthew's delicate touch. He felt down past her abdomen to the frilly short directoire knickers and bare legs.

"You are full of surprises my darling." His mouth covered hers as his kiss became deeper, his tongue exploring her mouth.

When they came up for air, Mary said "I'm so glad it makes you happy."

"Very …" he kissed her. "very…happy."

"Stand up," Mary asked.

"What? Now?" He continued to kiss.

"Yes. I want to show you something else."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Another surprise, eh?"

She reached out to take his arms as he began to stand.

"Stay right there." She placed each of his hand along each side of her body. She began to rhythmically shake her hips while trying to keep her feet still. She then moved to one side then the other, continuing to shimmy her hips and shake her shoulders as she tried to hum one of the tunes they played on the grammophone that afternoon she took the lesson.

"It's all the rage. Everyone's doing it. Even as some are threatening to ban it because it's considered scandalare…"

"I can see why…" Matthew focused completely on the movements of her body. Her hips bumped against his body so erotically it sent his mind into the most intoxicating arousal.

He started to laugh.

She fell against his body and he lifted her up, each still giggling, to carry her over to the bed.

They were alone, the entire night before them. Time to make the most of it.

XX

 _Love them having time together. Hope you do to!_ _Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, reviewed this story. Still a few chapters to go!_


	35. Chapter 35

XX

"I command your obedience…" Matthew's fingers combed through his wife's long hair. Languidly. Yet with so much intent. His body savored every sensation.

Mary lay in her husband's arms. They were spending an idle morning in bed at the Savoy, putting off all responsibilities for a few more stolen hours alone. Turning her head, she felt delicious heat emanating off his bare chest. His pyjama shirt unbuttoned and off to the side. They must have forgotten to take it off completely after their lovemaking during the night.

"Hmmmm…?" She feigned irritation. "How dare you."

Mary felt his sonorous chuckle reverberate against her ear. He answered in kind. "Well it is part of the marriage vow."

Tickling his chest with her fingernails, she maintained her air of disdain. "You mean those outdated means by which the male of the species keeps women in metaphorical chains."

Mary's actions were rewarded by hearing swift intakes of breath as her fingernails moved lower onto his pelvis.

"I…I won't disagree with that," Matthew just managed to utter, his eyes fluttering as he grew ever more aroused. "But I never expected to hold you to it. You know very well you are free to do as you want in all things…." He paused, pulling her closer so he could feel for her lips and kiss her. "...Except this one."

She whispered in his ear, "And what is that my lord and master?"

"You must never, ever cut your hair like you once threatened. I know it's all the rage these days but I just couldn't bear it."

Matthew thrust his hands into her luxurious tresses, pressing them against her skull and pulling his fingers through her locks. His tongue darted deeper and deeper inside her mouth, as he pushed her closer and closer to him.

"I wouldn't dream of it my darling." She answered, hot kisses meeting his own.

Mary adored the pressure his ministrations wrought. It made her body feel alive. She had only thought she had plumbed the depths of pleasure. Now, inconceivable to her before, within the restrictions of his blindness, they found liberation. Cavernous spaces of which to explore new ways to please, to gratify, to delight.

They spent the rest of the morning doing just that. In endless variations.

XX

Matthew tucked into his meal at the Savoy Grill. "I have a ravenous appetite."

"I wonder you do…" Mary purred close to his ear.

Matthew's lips twitched and he chuckled at her private inference.

"…after this morning that is… I mean really darling. Against the window? What if someone saw…" She cooed slowly, breathing in and out against his cheek.

Matthew almost spewed out his coffee. "You did assure me the curtains were pulled closed…" He turned to her, drawing out his next words "…weren't they?"

She giggled. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Matthew spoke low into her ear, "Such deviousness. And here was I, an innocent believing your word."

"And what have I told you? Pay no attention to the things I say?"

They laughed.

Matthew's eyes danced merrily as he began to eat.

How amazing, Mary always thought, that he could still give flashes that his eyes were as before. She knew now, though, that he saw her, all of her, now matter what the state of his eyesight was.

Mary nibbled on her omelette. "Anna checked before she departed and said that the trains were running just a bit slow but that we should be fine to get back to Downton by late afternoon."

Matthew, holding his fork back to answer before taking the bite of his salmon, said "It has been incredibly wonderful to get away but I have to admit to being eager to get back home and get up to the nursery. George is about to walk at any minute."

"He was still wobbling on Friday morning but you never know. His birthday is a fortnight away and Mama says it'll be any time now."

"Mother says I was so dead keen to get into my toybox on my own that I fell down and got up three or five times on the way across the playroom, my knees scraped and all."

Mary could see him in her mind's eye, bullheaded and determined. "Granny told me I wouldn't walk on command or coaxing, just to annoy them."

"Naturally, …" Matthew knew the truth of that.

She playfully hit his arm. "Oh you…"

Then a voice Matthew knew but couldn't place stopped their lighthearted chatting. "Matthew? I say, I'm so glad to see you looking so well…"

Matthew looked in the direction of the voice but said nothing. His brow furrowed in thought.

Mary understood. He needed more clues as to the man's identity.

Mary realized the man knew Matthew was not looking him straight in the eyes. She took over. "Hello. I am Lady Mary Crawley, Mr. Crawley's wife. How do you do." She held out her hand.

The man withdrew his hand from Matthew's direction and moved it to take his wife's.

"I am so pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm William Buchanan…"

"Captain Buchanan, of course." Matthew snapped his finger and got up and struck out his hand. "He was my commanding officer in the sound ranging, my dear."

Mary and Buchanan exchanged a glance as the two men greeted each other. Mary realized that Buchanan understood the situation with Matthew by a reassuring nod in her direction.

She invited, "Would you sit down and join us?"

"Please do…" Matthew said. "I'm sure you sussed out already that the medical condition I told you about in France has resulted in my becoming blind again but I'd love to hear what you've been up to since the war."

"Thank you." Buchanan put his hat on the extra chair and sat down opposite the couple. "I've finished my meal, but I will accept another cup of coffee."

Mary called over the waiter.

"I remember that at Kemmel Hill," Matthew said. "You always had a fresh pot in the mess."

The cup arrived and the waiter poured the coffee.

"You were missed when you were reassigned." Buchanan said. "Did you ever tell your wife how you saved the lot of us?"

Matthew flushed and waved his hand in protest. "No I didn't. I …"

Mary was astonished.

"Yes he did, Lady Mary. Don't let him tell you otherwise. Those keen ears of his heard the footsteps of a column of German soldiers and we barely took cover before being discovered."

"Was this when you went missing?"

Matthew had never wanted his wife to worry. "We had to hole up in an abandoned chateau for a few days. We were never really missing. I told you a bit about it, darling."

It seemed a lifetime ago now, anyway. In the war, when he could see.

"I put in the papers to get him Mentioned in Despatches but you were already assigned ADC before it could be put through channels. You deserved a medal I always thought." Buchanan always had a soft spot for young Crawley.

Matthew scowled slightly, still irked by how Robert had pulled rank to get him seconded back to England for the duration. But he recovered to thank his former OC. "I had no idea. It's an honour just to know that."

Mary gave Buchanan a gratifying look. Matthew spoke very little about his war experiences and this was quite illuminating.

"What are you doing now? Other than the obvious that married life suits you."

Matthew laughed. "We have a little boy, George. He's almost a year old. I've also began work at a law firm in Ripon as a solicitor."

"That is magnificent." Buchanan said.

Matthew inquired, "I'd have thought you would have moved back to Canada by now."

"I considered it when demobbed in the summer of last year, but I've no family there anymore and I got pushed by some colleagues to go into a consortium with them on radiotelephony. We've started our own company in conjunction with the GPO who issues the licences to manufacture purpose-built radios. It's a rather ragtag operation now, but one day we hope to join together in a major broadcasting effort."

Matthew leapt at that. "Do you know Sir Arthur Pearson?"

"No…" The name sounded familiar, but Buchanan couldn't recall it.

"He's the chairman of St. Dunstan's, the hostel for blinded soldiers at Regents Park. He and I work together on some projects and he's been keen for years to create talking books for the residents. I know they tried gramophone records but they came out muddy and the technical costs were also a restraining factor. I often thought of our work in sound ranging and wondered if there were break throughs that could help out."

"Give me his name again," Buchanan pulled out a small notebook.

Mary could sense the beginning of a much longer discussion. But they really needed to catch that train. She reached out to touch Matthew's arm. "Remember our schedule. Sybil…"

Matthew knew she was concerned about her sister. "Of course, darling." He turned to Buchanan, "Sir, I will…"

"William, now Matthew. No need to stick to formalities in peacetime."

"That will sound very odd," Matthew said. "But I'll try. William, I will have someone from St. Dunstan's contact you if you give me your information."

"I'll write it down now."

Mary got up. "While you do that, I will go see that the porters have put our luggage in the taxi." She held out her hand to Buchanan. "Very nice to meet you. I do hope if you're ever in Yorkshire you will join us for dinner at Downton Abbey."

"I will look forward to that, Lady Mary. Thank you."

Mary left the two men to finish their conversation. She was eager to ensure they not miss the afternoon train as Sybil's condition was of increasing worry and she wanted to see her sister for herself.

Would they be back in time before she gave birth?

XX

"Your commanding officer is a charming man." Mary readjusted her skirt, easing down onto the train seat next to her husband.

"He was made a Lieutenant Colonel by the end of the war. One of the good 'uns as Sam would say. I'm also relieved he's found work in his field. So many have not."

Matthew then added, "Buchanan asked me to consider doing some recordings for them. Read excerpts from literary works of my choice for experimental radio transmissions. I have to say I'm intrigued in how this new technology can help those at St. D's and the Hall."

"Yet another activity. Your schedule is becoming quite full. How will you find time for our new addition?"

"I will drop everything of course. You and the children always come first."

"I know, darling," Mary reassured. "But there's the issue of dealing with Papa as well. We need to decide when to present him our facts regarding Downton's finances. With Tom's help I've finished the accounts books and have been writing down a summary of recommendations."

"There's always been something to put that off. First the war, then settling back into peacetime, then George's arrival followed by my blindness. Now Sybil is priority."

"I have to agree. We'll all breathe easier when she's delivered of a healthy baby safely."

Matthew reached out his gloved hand to take his wife's. "She will." He smiled. "She's as much a storm braver as her sister."

Mary kissed his cheek. "I'll feel better when I see her."

They arrived back at Downton Village in good time. The chauffeur was there to meet the younger Crawleys. But he also had a message to deliver.

"Lady Mary," Hodgkins said, "Lady Grantham told me to inform you that Lady Sybil has been taken to the Village Hospital and would you meet her and Mr. Branson there."

Mary gripped Matthew's arm. "We will go directly."

"If Dr. Clarkson thinks this is for the best, it is," Matthew tried to assure his wife. He pat her hand and then placed his own on her arm. "Lead on."

After Matthew confirmed with the chauffeur to return to the station to collect their bags, they made their way to the Rolls Royce. Matthew gripped the door handle to balance himself as he lifted his body inside the car.

Though he couldn't see his wife's face he knew Mary's was etched with worry. He wished he had words of comfort but knew they'd do little good. She needed to see the situation for herself.

Once at the hospital, Hodgkins opened the door and Matthew gingerly felt with his cane for the running board to step down. Mary met him after getting out the other passenger door and they made their way inside.

"Mary, dearest. Thank goodness you are here. Hello Matthew. You can keep Tom some company now you're here." Cora greeted them immediately upon arriving in the waiting room. "Dr. Clarkson says Sybil is very muddled and he thought it best to bring her here."

"Muddled?"

Mary saw Tom flash a worried look from across the room. He had been pacing it back and forth for the past two hours. "'Not quite in the present moment,' he says. Sybil's been drifting mentally since this morning."

Matthew heard his brother in law's anguished voice but he could think of nothing to say. Mary's childbirth had been more straightforward whereas this was so uncertain. He then heard footsteps and a door open.

"The operating theater is ready. The orderly is bringing Lady Sybil in directly to deliver the child by Caesarean section."

It was Dr. Clarkson. Matthew listened intently to the conversation.

Tom said, "I want to be with her…"

"No. It would be best if you all remain here. The less exposure to untold dangers of infection the better for mother and child."

Cora started to protest, but Dr. Clarkson said, "I have every confidence Sybil will deliver safely. Without the trauma of a natural delivery she will not have the convulsions associated with eclampsia and therefore will not on the seizures associated with the disorder. We will still have to monitor her for several weeks after the birth, but …" and Matthew heard the doctor give a long, hard exhalation of breath. "… but her prognosis is good. You were right to bring her here."

Matthew felt his wife's shiver and he gripped her arm. "Sit down, darling. We can only wait now. It's not just men now who are helpless when a baby's in the picture. We all are until Dr. Clarkson tells us she's safe."

He put his arm around her shoulder and with her help, guided them into two of the chairs in the waiting room.

He heard Tom resume his pacing.

"Where is Granny?" Mary asked her mother.

"She remained at home. Thought it would be too much if we all came." Cora moved to sit near her daughter. "Robert is with her. You know how he is around medical matters. He's still half convinced we should have called his expert."

Tom snorted. "We did the right thing."

"Of course we did." Cora agreed. "You've been a tower of strength for Sybil through all this, Tom. I want you to know that."

Mary was surprised by her mother's support of Tom. Maybe there was hope for the family to come together after all.

The wait turned out to be not very long as the procedure was over within forty-five minutes. The head nurse opened the waiting room door to give the good news.

"Lady Sybil's safe. The baby's a girl. She's small but healthy."

Tom collapsed onto a chair. "Oh, thank God."

"Go to him," Matthew said to Mary. "He needs you."

Mary squeezed her husband's hand and got up to sit beside Tom.

"It's good news. A little girl, how delightful."

"Yes…yes…. Yes it is. I just can't quite believe it. Is she truly safe, nurse? I mean her state of mind?"

Nurse Springfield replied, "She's tired and weak from the anesthesia but Dr. Clarkson says she's of sound mind. She knows who she is, who her baby is. She's already asking for you."

Tom sprang up.

"You can see the baby for a few moments. Give your wife a little more time with the doctor."

"Thank you," Cora said. "We'll come with you Tom."

Mary returned to Matthew who said, "You go along. I'll wait here."

"Maybe you can return with Hodgkins who's still waiting outside to the house. Tell everyone. I don't think Sybil will be in much condition for visitors but Papa and Granny should be told in person. I'll wait here for a bit more and telephone any developments."

"Are you sure…" Matthew said. "What about you, my darling. How are you feeling?"

Mary realized all the trauma surrounding Sybil had started a panic in her husband about their own child. She said, "I'm fine, darling. Go home and give George a kiss from me."

Matthew nodded. He got up and took her arm and they made their way outside to the waiting car. Once inside, he rolled down the window. "I'll tell them to wait your telephone call."

One last kiss on the cheek and Mary waved him away and she went back inside.

Tom and Cora were already in the nursery. Mary walked over to the cot where the infant was swaddled safely inside. Cora lifted her up to show Mary. "She's beautiful."

Mary beheld her niece and rejoiced inside at her healthy appearance. "Hello there little one."

Tom said, "I know Sybil will think it silly but I want to call her after her mother. From the moment I saw little Sybbie here she reminds me of my darling wife."

"She's just perfect."

Dr. Clarkson opened the nursery door. "Visiting time is over. We need to check over the baby and bring her to her mother."

"Is Sybil awake?" Tom asked.

"Yes…but you can stay for a few minutes. Lady Sybil needs quiet and rest."

Cora reluctantly handed the infant over to the nurse. "I'll take good care of her," Nurse Springfield said. "You go see your daughter. She's been very brave."

Mary and Cora followed Tom inside the maternity ward. Sybil lay under some blankets, her eyes closed.

"Darling…" Tom called out.

Sybil's eyes weakly opened. She tried to smile. "Isn't she beautiful?"

"Yes she is."

"Mary? You're here."

"We arrived back just in time."

"I'm ever so tired…" Sybil drifted off again.

"I think we should let her sleep," Cora said. "Let's go back to the waiting room."

Tom remained in the room for a few more quiet moments with his wife as Mary and her mother returned to the outer room.

"Matthew's gone back to Downton?"

"Yes. I told him to tell Papa and Granny. Where is Edith anyway? I thought she'd be here with us…"

"She had to return to Strallan Hall. I'm not sure why. She might be back though. Matthew will tell us."

Mary and her mother sat down again to wait further information from Dr. Clarkson.

XX

"That's wonderful news. I'll tell everyone. Edith's still not back yet. When will you be be home."

Mary responded that it would be later that night and Matthew replied with, "I'll see you then. Good bye darling."

He carefully replaced the receiver back in its housing and retrieved his cane from the side of the chair. Getting up he returned to the small library. Robert and Mary's grandmother both dozed in chairs before the fireplace.

Violet stirred when she heard Matthew's cane scratching. "Any news?"

"Mary just rang. She and the rest will be back within the hour. They've been pushed out by Dr. Clarkson. She said Sybil was more awake than before and has grown stronger by the hour."

"Good man Clarkson," Robert spoke. "I always knew Sybil would pull through."

Violet sniffed, "you didn't think so and you know it. You and your man from London…"

Matthew sighed and left them to the bickering. He was tired, and felt a headache coming on from all the day's activities.

Upon re-entering the saloon and about to take the red stair case, he heard Florence call out. "Mr. Crawley, Mr. Crawley come quick. Master George, sir…he's about to do it."

Matthew lifted his head. "Really? I'll come directly."

Matthew took the steps as quickly as he dared and made the turn to the nursery. Florence had left the door open and he walked inside.

"Look here, Master George," Florence said. "Here's your papa."

Matthew eased down onto the floor, using the window seat platform as a guide. "Georgie…you want Daddy to give you a big hug?"

He opened his arms wide and listened ever so carefully to hear a change in George's pattern. Usually he could hear the child scrabbling crawl across the carpeted nursery floor. It made a kind of swishing sound.

This time… this time though he heard little footfalls. Tiny ones to be sure. But determined to get over to his father's arms.

"There he goes, sir," Florence called out. "I just knew he was ready."

George fell into Matthew's open arms, his little fists beating against his chest as he babbled a series of incomprehensible syllables.

"Ba ba ba…da da da…"

"George did walk over to Daddy. Yes he did…" Matthew gave his own interpretation of his son's words. "You're Daddy's big boy now. We're going to have to watch your every move. Mummy will be here soon. You'll have to surprise her too."

He gave his son a hug. Nothing felt quite as purely sweet as a hug from a child.

For a child's hug was love itself.

XX

😊 _All's right with the world. Rejoice a child is born. We put canon right in fan fic_


	36. Chapter 36

**XX**

 **March 1920**

"The fire inspector said it was an arc that ignited the fire. It was one of the relay boxes installed when Anthony had the house first wired for electricity. He removed the old bell pulls and replaced them with electric push buttons and a display boards in hallways, the butler's pantry, and the servant hall."

Edith led Mary down the main hallway towards a side door. Mary could smell the smoke that still lingered in the air.

"A spark in the copper wiring started it and then the flame fed along the wire inside the wall until it took out a wall and touched some curtains stacked in a storage room. That set an old oak table on fire and then it was just a matter of time before it reached the Green Drawing Room. By the time Laidlaw noticed and called the fire brigade in St. Alban's he had to spend the rest of the time making sure everyone was out of the house quickly."

The hammering of the builders interrupted their conversation. "Let's go this way," Edith guided Mary outside to a small garden patio.

"The ceiling collapsed in that drawing room?" Mary asked, taking a seat on metal chair shaded by a large larch tree. The baby had started kicking quite enthusiastically and she was glad of the rest.

"Yes." Edith rubbed her brow in consternation. "It's got the most damage along with the Red Room's oak paneling." She sighed and tried to make the best of it. "At least the Constable was on loan to the National Gallery so that treasure was safe." She had been reluctant to part with the painting as it was one of her husband's favourites, but now she was glad she had assented to the loan. "It's been a long couple of months but now we're on the other side. Brancaster had a fire of a similar nature a few years ago and so Bertie gave me some invaluable aid with the insurance and finding builders who could insulate all the wiring and help restore the drawing room to a semblance of what it was before."

Mary smiled. Bertie invaluable, eh? "I'm glad he could help. Once it made the papers, I guess everyone knew. Papa was quite put out when he read the accounts. We knew it wasn't as bad as the _Telegraph_ made out because we had just been over to see for ourselves."

"Oh…that…" Edith gave her sister an eye roll. "They made more than it warranted. I know I'm in the journalism business, but the sensationalism and circulations wars are getting quite out of hand. The article did allow the news to reach up to Northumberland. That's how Bertie found out and telephoned our estate agent to see how he could help."

Mary let any curiosity regarding her sister's relationship with the future Marquess of Hexham go unsatisfied. It wasn't the time to make those kinds of inquiries but she was hopeful that Edith had found someone to love again.

"Quite an eventual few days for sure and I'm glad its all over. Sybil's back at Downton on more bed rest and Sybbie is pink and cherubic. Tom can't stop looking at her with the biggest smile on his face."

"I've not thanked you properly for looking after little Anthony. I felt so bad I had to rush off that night as I knew Sybil was in such distress. But Laidlaw sounded quite frantic and then the telephone cut out and I had no idea what was happening."

"All's well that ends well. I'm glad you and the baby weren't at home at the time. A fire is dreadful at any time, but at least everyone got out safely." Mary willed away the thought that crept into a corner of her brain. What would happen if Matthew got caught in a fire?

"We've moved temporarily into the east wing to get away from the construction…" Edith could see the butler moving towards her. "What is it Laidlaw?"

"Mr. Parker is here, Lady Strallan. He wishes to go over the figures for the new electrics."

"I see." Edith stood up.

Mary did as well. "I'll let you get on with things. I promised Matthew I'd be back in time for dinner. He'd have come with me but there's a tricky will or thingamajig on at his law office and he couldn't get away. He has to work twice as hard as the other clerks to keep up." Mary shook her head at his tenacity. "I wouldn't put up with it at all, but he just plows on."

Edith understood. "It must be difficult. We all admire him so. And he's so good with George. When all this is done, I'll get over to see him walking."

"He's got everyone eating out of his hands. We brought him down for tea last week and he ran straight for Granny who was seated on the red sofa in the library. He made his demands clear and so she scooped him up into her lap. He giggled delightfully."

The two kissed cheeks. "Little Anthony will be like that soon enough. Then George will have a proper playmate."

"I can't wait," Edith said. "He brings me more such joy."

Mary hugged her sister. Such easy times as this between them she had never thought possible. But past grudges were long past and they had moved on into a more mature relationship.

"See you soon," Mary slipped behind the wheel of the AC, waved one more time, and drove off. The car responded to her pushing the gearshift and she made the turn out of Strallan Hall and down to the main road that would lead her back home.

XX

"I'm here, darling," He heard his wife's light rap on the door and call of his name.

Matthew's voice sounded muffled but she opened the door and poked her head inside the bathroom. "Lang said you were almost finished."

"Yes, yes. Come in."

When she did so she saw Matthew, his head buried beneath a large towel, rubbing his still wet hair.

No wonder he sounded distant. Mary stepped onto the tiled floor and made her way towards her husband.

Seated on a bench beside a large porcelain tub, he had on his dressing gown but his feet were bare. Lang had already pulled the plug and washed down the sturdy teak slab in the bathtub before leaving him to set out Matthew's dinner jacket. Mary knew Matthew had installed the wooden seat last year when he had gone blind again. Fitting over the top of the tub, it allowed him to complete his ablutions in a certain privacy. A shelf with cloths, soaps, and shampoo nearby to his right. He could call for assistance only when he needed. Mary had asked whether a shower would be more practical but Matthew responded he usually felt more balanced and aware of his surroundings with the bench. He had one as a young man in Manchester and it worked quite handily.

Thinking once again about the fire, Mary tried not to fret again about the potential of him slipping and falling. There were ever so many dangers as he made his way not only around the house, but outside walking to and from the train station, and making his way around Ripon. She had promised to trust his judgement on his ability to get around on his own and she intended to keep it.

Mary sat down and gave his cheek a kiss, feeling a couple of droplets of water run down her cheek.

"Careful, I'm still dripping a bit."

"Then I'll get wet."

Matthew chuckled at her inviting riposte. "Darling…" He moved his head so their lips met in a deep kiss.

Reluctantly parting, he continued to dry off. "How's Edith?" Matthew asked as he reached down to feel for his slippers.

Mary moved them towards his hand. "Quite a lot still to do with the renovations but they're well under way. You were right to be concerned with our electrics here at Downton as the inspectors said that was the cause of the fire at Strallan Hall."

Matthew scowled. "Terrible but these old houses that first got wiring in the early aughts are prime targets. We made sure we had the latest insulation at Downton Hall when they converted the cottages. I know Robert won't want to hear about it for the main house as it's yet another expense."

Mary had to grudgingly agree and then said, "Edith's had some good advice from Bertie Pelham on the best builders to get in."

Matthew was glad. "He's a good man."

"Very good."

"Do I detect something is up there for them both? Or is it too soon?" He reached out to feel the wall behind him for his cane.

Mary answered while handing him his stick. "It's been over a year since Anthony's death but grief is a tricky thing. I don't want to say anything but they would make a lovely couple."

"I hope they find their happiness." Matthew leaned the stick against the bench and reached out to take his wife's cheeks in both hands. "As we've found ours."

"Me too, Matthew. Me too." Mary extended this moment of total privacy by placing her husband's right hand over her belly. "He's really punching like Jack Johnson."

A beatific smile stretched across Matthew's face as he gently gripped her belly and felt each quick kick in succession.

"Are you as sure this time the baby's a he?"

"I'm not," Mary admitted. "'She' might just be as raring to get out of there as I am."

"You know I don't care." He bent his face down. "Daddy loves you," he said sotto-voiced to the baby inside Mary's womb then gave her stomach a kiss.

Mary closed her eyes and soaked in the love she felt overwhelm her body. She idly raked her hand through Matthew's damp hair. She needed this quiet time with her husband. They had been so busy since Sybil's birth they hardly had time together where one or the other wasn't exhausted.

He leaned comfortably against her shoulder. "I guess we should make a move."

"Anna might send out a search party. We do need to get dressed. Papa's got the some dreary neighbour or something in for dinner."

"What's it in aid of?"

"No idea. Papa has been walking around with a grin like the Cheshire cat. I hope he's not got some scheme or other."

Matthew grunted, We'll know soon enough. Right o." Matthew halfheartedly stood up, leaning on his stick. "After you, my darling."

They exited the bathroom with Mary opening the door so Matthew could walk through.

They entered his dressing room.

"I've got everything laid out sir," Lang said as soon as he saw Matthew.

"Thank you, Lang."

"I'll see you later." Mary squeezed Matthew's hand and opened the door to their bedroom.

Anna had taken a deep blue high waisted loosely fitting maternity dress out of the wardrobe. At six month and half months Mary could no longer fit into any of her regular gowns. While in London with Matthew back in January she had ordered some new, forgiving drop waisted slip dresses she now would wear through the rest of the pregnancy. She also had asked that Anna retrieve the maternity corset as well. It wasn't that she relished returning to wearing the constraining garment, but that the corset designed for pregnancy actually helped support the baby and relieve her back from extra strain.

As she helped Mary into the blue dress and began to button up the back, Anna asked "My lady, my sister is poorly and my mother asks if I could visit for a few days to help out the family."

Mary stopped fidgeting with the loose belt. "Of course, Anna. It's not.." She blanched, afraid to say what was on her mind. Mr. Bates' death was still quite raw for her lady's maid.

Anna shook her head. "No not the flu. My sister has chronic bronchitis and has never been able to find work outside the house. She does some sewing and mending but now has taken to her bed and my mum's quite worried."

"Stay as long as you need." Mary said. "And if there's anything we can do to help, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, m'lady." Anna finished her task and stood back.

Just then Matthew walked in from his dressing room. "Ready?" He held out his stick to walk towards their main bedroom door.

"Black tie?" Mary queried, raising an amused eyebrow. "Granny always thinks you and Papa are waiters in that get up."

Matthew laughed. "Lang says the dinner is informal. Your father's guest is an old boy from Robert's public school turns out. So, it will be as dreary as you feared as they pass stories back and forth of the horrors of the playing fields of England."

"Oh joy." Mary's voice mirrored her husband's resigned sarcasm.

They joined hands and Mary led them towards the door that Anna had already opened.

"Give me a minute, will you? I'll meet you on the landing."

"I'll be there." Matthew walked on ahead.

Mary peeked into to Sybil and Tom's bedroom. Her sister was resting while Nurse Todd rocked the baby to sleep near a small crib.

"Is that you Mary?" Sybil asked, turning to see the shaft of light at the door.

"Yes darling. Just checking to see if you need anything. I know Tom's busy."

"He's just gone. I have to admit I'm not that upset not to be going to dinner tonight. I don't think I could stand listening to old boys tell naughty school tales."

Mary laughed. "That's just what Matthew said. We'll endure it somehow. You rest."

Sybil snuggled under the blankets again. "Good night."

Mary closed the door and met Matthew on the landing and they walked into the dining room together.

XX

"Don't you see Robert?" The man's voice rose again in pitch as he struck the table with his fist.

Granny flinched beside him and threw her daughter in law a dim look. Cora knew Robert's mother hated breaches of protocol like this. Talking loudly and speaking of money.

She knew only one way to put an end to Violet's misery. "I think we'll leave you men to your talk." She stood up. "Shall we?"

Mary, really wanting to stay to calm down Matthew who was on the verge of saying something he'd regret later, gripped his shoulder and said, "I must go with Granny. I wish Tom was here."

Tom had to attend a function at Downton Hall now that he was managing director. He had popped in just long enough to see Sybil and their baby and then left again to meet Trevor. After being told of the evening's guest Mary knew Tom had left with a great deal of relief that he didn't have to stay though he said on his way out the door, "give my sympathy to Matthew."

Her husband gave a tight smile. "I understand." He started to reach for his wineglass but he withdrew as his hand was shaking. He'd never make a scene in front of this buffoon by dropping his drink in his lap. "I promise to be on my best behaviour."

Mary left.

Robert, enthralled by his friend's tales travels in Africa, waved a hand to his wife and the women left and then said, "I do Harry, I see your enthusiasm. But what use it all to me?"

"The mines in Bechuanaland are full of zinc and copper. You would make a serious mistake if you don't get a stake in on the ground level. I can promise profit yields…" Harry reached for the decanter as Carson approached with the humidor and matches. Robert took a cigar out and lit it, puffing until the embers burned as he wanted.

Matthew's spluttered cough interrupted Harry Stokes's monologue. "Profits made on the backs of, let's not put to fine a point on it shall we, on the back of slave labour… I don't think anyone should support that." His promise to Mary vanished in thin air as he just couldn't take any more of the man's insufferable arrogance.

"Young man I think I know what's best." Harry Stoke replied in just the kind of condescending simple sentences Matthew had grown to despise from those who believed blindness equaled mental incapacity.

"Matthew," Robert spoke tetchily, "I understand your concerns but let Harry finish before making judgments."

Harry began again. "If the government places a duty on all copper not destined for refining in Britain then any investor will make a righteous killing."

Matthew groaned then replied, "Don't you think you might want to wait for the geologist's final report. It might turn out to be bust?"

Harry refused to listen. "The preliminary findings will hold true. I'm telling you Robert you'd be a fool not to join me. Frankie Minor has already come aboard. And Pinkie…"

"Wheels within wheels…" Matthew muttered under his breath. He knew the silly names given to public school boys by their peers. He hated them. It assumed an intimacy that was usually laced with intimidation and demands to conformity. But it was just the kind of thing to influence his father in law to invest money in an exotic scheme. Money that was desperately needed at Downton.

"Matthew don't be so quick. These are the days of the bold investor. Before you and Mary came down Harry was talking to me about this man Ponzi who's promising 50% profits within 45 days."

Matthew's groan got even more vocal. And he knew it was time for him to take his leave. He pulled back his chair and, as that was his usual signal, Carson fetched the cane that Matthew always tucked beside the long sideboard when he sat down and touched him on his shoulder. "Mr. Crawley."

"Thank you, Carson."

Matthew gripped the stick and stood up. "I will leave you to the discussion gentleman. The evening's been most illuminating."

Carson followed behind Matthew who took the steps he had memorized towards the dining room door. He waited for Carson to open it, and then he stepped out into the hallway and turned left towards the music room to join his wife and her mother and grandmother. His own mother was expected to return finally in April and he looked forward to seeing her again.

Not that he thought anyone could calm him down after that encounter. He hoped he could talk some sense into Robert once his school friend had left.

Entering the music room, Mary saw him and walked over. "Survive did we?"

Matthew grunted. "Barely." He took her arm and she guided him over to the settee. Mary leaned over, "Tom's back. He joined us in here on my suggestion rather than interrupt the cigars and port."

That brightened Matthew a bit. "How did it go at the Hall?"

"The evening's awards banquet was a success. I handed out all the blue ribbons," Tom answered. "I heard I missed some excitement."

Matthew snorted. "Not really. Just a lot of hot air."

"Odious man," Violet said. "I remember him from school holidays. He's always had more influence over Robert than either his father or I could endure."

Cora added, "he was best man at our wedding. He took a job with the government in South Africa. But now he's back for good I think."

"Harry Stoke is a fool," Matthew spat out. "He talks dangerous nonsense. Robert must be made to understand or else he'll risk destroying the family."

Cora was taken aback at Matthew's dismissal. "Robert's been captain of this ship long enough to earn more of your respect."

Matthew wanted to bite back his words. He didn't mean to hurt Cora. "I'm sorry…"

"He didn't mean to be disrespectful," Mary said.

Robert entered at that moment, "Well he does a marvelous impression of it. Harry's left leaving it to me to say his good-byes."

Granny actually relaxed at that announcement.

Matthew wasn't too put out either but he was determined to be more diplomatic. "There are ways to meet the challenges of the modern world, Robert. Ways that don't include throwing good money after bad."

"So says the middle class…"

Matthew gave up and threw himself against the settees's back, gripping his cane's handle so hard Mary could see blood vessels popping on his wrists.

She needed to calm things down.

"We need to build something that will last, Papa. We can't carry on as if nothing's changed."

Robert grumbled. "You're on his side of course."

"I'm on all our sides. I believe Matthew is right, but I also know you have the best of intentions regarding Downton's traditions and it's tenants."

An actual smile crept over Matthew's face. Mary was a natural at this kind of thing.

"Maybe I should just take a back seat then…"

"No one's saying that," Tom interjected. "Just listen to what Matthew's saying. I've looked over the accounts with Mary. There's room for improvements on every page."

Robert took over. "Shall I tell you how I look at it? Every man or woman who marries into this house, every child born into it, has to put their gifts at the family's disposal."

Matthew heard that challenge. "And you think I've not come up to the mark? Because I won't give my legacy to the family?"

"You've been reluctant" was Robert's terse reply.

"I've not seen it as mine to give," Matthew explained in as measured a tone as he could muster. "It's mine to preserve and if possible, to enhance in the best ways I know how. Downton's farms must be made to be profitable."

He couldn't finish because Robert interrupted. "There you go again…profit, profit. You want to do it at the expense of Downton's tenants but won't consider engaging in one of these schemes to double or triple our initial outlay."

"And what if it fails Papa?" Mary inquired. "It would be for nothing."

"Risk is part of it. But the rewards could give us financial security."

"Or ruin…" Granny added with perfect timing.

Tom tried to reason with Robert. "We cannot go forward with no income it's true, but we can't risk what we have now."

Robert threw up his hands. "Then so be it on your heads."

All seemed at an impasse.

Matthew, tapping his cane against the floor, knew what he had to do.

He stood up. "Robert," he said, holding out his hand. "If my investment will help maintain Downton as a source of employment while we engage in measures to retrench unnecessary expenditures and run the estate as much as I know you hate it but it must be done, to run it like a business, I will do my share towards that end."

Robert took his hand. "Are you sure? I know we don't see eye to eye." He paused, realizing his faux pas. "Erm... I mean."

Matthew gave his father in law's hand a firm grip. "It's fine Robert. I know it's only a figure of speech. And I am sure. My future is here with my wife, my children. I want Downton to be my family's home for generations to come. I know you want that as well. In that we are the same."

Robert accepted Matthew's terms. "We'll get started right away."

Matthew returned to his seat beside his wife. "Thank you, Matthew," she said.

"I don't want any more squabbling or tension in these last months of your pregnancy. I will do my best to work with him rather than against him."

"I know that was quite the concession."

Matthew finally smiled. "you know, in the end I realized it's what you've been telling me all along. It's about family. So, thinking of it that way, it turned out to be not that hard at all."

"I'm so very glad." Mary brushed her lips against his cheek. "And that you think of Downton as your home now."

He turned towards Mary's voice, avowing with a heated passion, "You know I don't care for titles or estates. You are my home. You are my heart. I am happy wherever you and our children live. I want nothing more than to make you happy."

A tear threatened to fall against her cheek. Mary hated public displays but didn't try to wipe it away. "I've never been happier in my whole life."

"Then it's all I ask for." Matthew let the moment sink in then couldn't help adding cheekily, "Are you ready to take over after the baby's born? You are quite up to the task you know. Tom and I will help, but you're the natural choice."

Mary gave her husband a side eye she knew he couldn't see. "A method to your sweet talk. Take over? Isn't that the job of the estate agent?"

"Jarvis won't last long under this new regime. He'll quit once the new broom sweeps clean. At minimum I expect you'll want to supervise whomever we choose to replace him."

Mary surprised herself at just how readily she took to this idea. Who was she to tell Matthew Downton was their future if she herself wasn't willing to participate in its renaissance?

Several ideas already immediately came to mind.

XX  
 _I've always wanted to do "Harry Stoke is a fool…" haha… Hope you like what you read. Reviews are like guilt free indulgence. No calories. Just love. Thank you_


	37. Chapter 37

**April 1920**

"So…" Matthew stopped speaking to concentrate on nuzzling his wife's perfectly formed earlobe before whispering, "how long do we have before his lordship descends?"

They were laying down on their bed, a wool throw over Mary's growing bump. Matthew's right hand caressed her stomach, ever fascinated by the movements of the baby within.

"Florence brings him in around 4 so I can take him down to afternoon tea." Mary snuggled closer to Matthew's chest, his arm around her shoulder drawing her even closer. "George's new teeth allows him to love munching on the jelly scones but he gets it all over his face and hands. You'll have to watch out for sticky fingers."

Matthew chuckled lightly. "I can't wait. Mother said she'd be over from Crawley House to join us as I'm no longer under the weather."

It was unusual for Matthew to be home at this time of day. His work in Ripon took most of his time and Mary rarely saw him before he returned to get ready for dinner. But for the past few days he had been racked by headaches so intense he used the tincture of laudanum prescribed by his ophthalmologist and had spent much sleeping. Only yesterday did they subside enough for him to resume any kind of normal schedule. But Mr. Carter told him to take the Friday off and start again the following week.

Matthew had walked over to Downton Hall in the morning and then back to the house to join Mary upstairs. The headaches came and went recently without any sign of a return of sight. It was something Matthew refused to dwell on, not giving up hope that it might happen again, but needing to just get on with his life as it was now.

"It will just be the four of us. Papa's gone to a regimental dinner and Mama took the train with Sybil and Tom to London."

"She's seeing the specialist?"

"Yes. Dr. Ryder came highly recommended from Clarkson. From what I understand, though, even he can't be sure her condition won't continue into another pregnancy."

Sybil had wanted to consult an expert on preeclampsia and had traveled with Tom and her mother yesterday to prepare for the thorough check up this afternoon, having her own questions as a nursing professional on the disorder.

"It's a sensible precaution." Matthew cuddled closer, taking advantage of the last few minutes of privacy.

Mary, in the late stages of her pregnancy, usually had a lie down in the afternoon. She had spent most recent mornings with Robert working through the accounts together. Once on board with the ideas of retrenchment and modernization, Robert had proved to be more than willing to show the old dog accepted new tricks. Matthew couldn't have been more pleased. It made everything easier to move ahead. They had started with upgrading the electrics at the house, putting off the bigger decisions concerning overhauling the estate until Robert's solicitor had finalized the agreement that Mary and Matthew would become equal owners of Downton. Matthew had recommended an accountant from a London firm known to Joseph to help with planning the next step.

While Robert had agreed to hire Alec Stephens, he still wanted to move cautiously with regards to buying out any of the tenants. He insisted he wanted to speak to every one of them in person by inviting them over to the steward's office to meet with himself and the solicitor.

"Of course, he left it to me to make the arrangements by promptly taking himself off to his regimental whatevers."

Matthew had come to adore his wife's dismissive euphemisms.

"I mean it's fine for most but some don't have the telephones in yet, making arranging appointments most difficult. I wouldn't mind getting some fresh air by walking over to the cottages, but how would they react to Lady Mary Crawley showing up unannounced at their door?"

Matthew jested, "invite you in for a cuppa?"

He heard his wife's "tsking" sound as she gave him a playful swat on his shoulder. Getting more serious he said, "maybe if Miss Dawson came with you? She could explain the particulars and you can show the support of the house in endeavouring to make as equitable a settlement as possible."

"That's a good idea. I'll walk over with you tomorrow to the Hall and ask her."

"I'm just glad Robert wants to be prudent. I find that rather ironic given his former inclination to throw all his ready cash into some outlandish scheme on nothing more than an old boy's wink and a nod. Now if we can get him to move more swiftly on consolidation."

"One step at a time, darling…"

Florence rapped on the door which interrupted their conversation. Mary called out, "just a minute."

Matthew reached over and used the edge the mattress to guide his feet over the side and leveraged himself into a standing position. Reaching down to get his brogues, he fetched his stick and walked the few steps to the nearby chair where he sat down to put the shoes on his feet.

Mary glanced at the mirror and affixed a stray strand of hair back into place.

When both were presentable, she said, "Come in."

Florence opened the door and George let out a merry cry and scrambled out of her hands and ran into Matthew's waiting arms. "Hello little man." He carefully maneuvered the child into his lap.

"Hoshie…" George tried to say, flinging out his favorite toy, the pull horse given to him at Christmas. "Hoshie hoshie hoshie…"

Both parents translated to others that George was actually saying, 'horsie' in his fifteen-month-old way.

Matthew felt a whack as the wooden beast slapped accidentally across his face as George excitedly made "neighing" sounds. He tried to move his face out of the way but George continued so eventually Matthew decided to allow his son to stand between his legs instead. But at no time did he stop George's actions.

Florence took a step inside instinctively trying to control George from hurting his blind father.

Mary saw her and gave the nursery maid a knowing nod but said, "We'll be fine, Florence. Why don't you go and get your own tea?"

Florence understood. "Thank you, ma'am." She closed the door behind her.

Mary watched as Matthew indulgently allowed George to throw his arms about and screech in rising pitch, "Gooo, goooo, GOOOO!" while trying to move his face away when he felt his son's arms bolt in his general direction.

"Are we ready?"

Matthew smiled and, once George was secure in Matthew's left arm holding his horse in his clutches, they slowly made their way downstairs with Mary guiding Matthew by holding onto his shoulder while he leaned on the bannister with his right hand.

In the saloon, Matthew took his cane from Mary who held onto it while they made their way down the stairs.

Carson saw the couple and said, "Mrs. Crawley is in the library. James has brought in the tray."

Mary nodded and they entered the library.

"My darlings," Isobel said upon their arrival. "How's my grandson?"

"Chattering away," Matthew answered. "I'm not sure it makes any sense but, according to Florence, he now holds entire conversations between himself and his stuffed bears."

Mary waited as Isobel poured a cup of tea and handed it over to her. "I'm glad he's over the sniffles from last week. He was quite miserable."

"They can be little monsters at this age. Matthew raced around our back garden chasing butterflies and whenever he fell, which was quite often, he just bawled and bawled."

Matthew jokingly protested that he was sure he was quite justified in his tantrum as Isobel tapped her son's knee indulgently.

Isobel concluded with, "I can't wait for George to do just the same this summer."

Matthew said no to a cup, he was too aware of George's unpredictability to risk it. His son wouldn't budge from Matthew's lap, not used to having his father's complete attention at this time of the day.

"Speaking of the summer, Trevor's had the idea that now we've got a goodly number of residents at the Hall we should have a Sports Day similar to the one held at Regent's Park."

"That sounds fun."

"I know Joseph is itching to show off his new passion. He's got on with some Australians who've played around with adapting cricket for the blind. The Aussies had started with a tin can filled with rocks but now Joseph's got someone to fill a regular ball with iron ball bearings so the batter can hear the pitch."

"No more fencing?" Mary asked as she sipped her tea.

"That too. Indeed we're to have another session now that I'm feeling better. But you know Joseph, he's always got ten things on at the same time." He turned to where he knew his mother was seated. "Like someone else we know…"

His mother laughed. "Not at the moment. I'm home for a good while. Especially with the new little one on the way in June."

Mary unconsciously touched her stomach. The baby's kicking had subsided for the moment. "Next week will be a bit busy. We're having some guests Mama's informed me. My godfather Lord Merton is traveling to London and Papa has invited him to stay. I'm glad to say his son's will not be accompanying him."

"Wasn't Sybil destined for one of them?" Matthew was holding a plate with a sticky scone for George's consumption.

"Yes theoretically. Larry was apparently dead keen on her but I know she couldn't stand him. He hung about her like a puppy I remember. But a rather nasty, whinging sort of puppy." She shrugged. "Maybe he's gotten better with age."

"What about Lord and Lady Merton? Are they pleasant?" Isobel queried.

"He's a widower for many years now. I find him witty and charming. He claims his sons take after their mother so I gather it must have been a rather unhappy marriage as both Larry and Tim are impossible. One of them is in banking and the other is a diplomat of some sort."

"I look forward to making his acquaintance."

Tea ended in a relaxed atmosphere and Isobel returned back to Crawley House to catch up on her correspondence while Mary took George back to the nursery for his afternoon nap. Matthew waited for her in the monk's garden where they were to take a walk before dinner.

 **May 1920**

Sybil held her daughter carefully. Sybbie had been putting on weight so her little cheeks puffed delightfully as she suckled on her mother's breast. She had a vigorous appetite. Sybil didn't do all the feedings as she had taken several weeks herself in recovery and had been very weak. But now she felt strong enough to do this morning feed and sometimes right before the infant's bedtime.

Mary sat nearby in the window seat overlooking the south garden. Tom and Sybil's bedroom was about to undergo some renovations as they had made the decision to stay at Downton for the next few years. Tom was swiftly becoming essential at Downton Hall and Sybil even had some ideas to begin a nursing station at the Hall as they had no doctor living on the site.

"Have you made any decisions on colour patterns?" Mary turned to her sister.

Sybil shifted slightly. "I've not put my mind to it. You're more the decorator. I'm not sure I care beyond getting rid of the stuffy Victoriana and moving it all into the twentieth century."

Sybbie let out several burps as Sybil gently tapped her back, holding the baby against her shoulder. "There there sweet one…"

The baby settled down in her mother's arms and closed her eyes.

Mary considered Sybil's wishes. "Everything is changing. There are all sorts of new styles using geometric and angular shapes. Chrome and mirrors. I read an article about a woman, Eileen Gray, whose designs have taken off among some of the London society hostesses. I'm regretting some of the decisions I made in our sitting room going with art nouveau. I think this room would look marvelous with a Duncan Grant rug near the fireplace and single piece furniture rather than a suite."

"And already my mind is wandering. I'll leave it up to you. We might not be here forever remember. I know Tom still wants to return to Ireland sooner rather than later."

Nurse Todd rapped gently on the door and, on Sybil's invitation to enter, she came in and took the now sleeping child from her mother's arms.

"I'll be in to check on her in a few minutes."

Once the door was closed again Sybil stood up and moved over to her dressing table.

"Isn't Tom happy at the Hall?"

"Yes. And grateful to Matthew for letting him take the time to write several articles for the _Irish Independent_ of Dublin about the treatment of Irish soldiers at the Hall and St. Dunstan's."

"I know Matthew and Ian Fraser have had some backlash by those who want to have Scottish, Welsh, or Irish soldiers go home to their own military hospitals rather than be treated in an English facility."

"Indeed. Fear of anti-Irish sentiment has driven a lot of that. Irish soldiers in the war being treated more harshly and subject to more court martials than their English counterparts. Especially now with the tension of Home Rule some believed that Irish veterans would be thrown out whenever the facilities needed more beds. Of course, that has not happened here so Tom was more than glad to write up his findings."

The two women stood up. "The world is all topsy turvy. I know for the time being here is right for our family. Papa's come around to Tom and Mama and Granny dote on Sybbie. If I can find some useful work as well I will be well and truly happy."

"I'm glad." Mary hugged her sister. "We were all so scared for your health. So having you close is something we all feel passionate about."

"When is Edith arriving?"

"She said by seven not wanting to be later than Lord Merton's arrival. He's expected to be at Downton Village train station at 7:30. He'll spend the night and then go on to London."

Mary hadn't seen her godfather in some time as he couldn't make the wedding due to his government position during the war and he was away in France. So it would be good to catch up and introduce him to her family.

"I'm so relieved he's alone. Larry is such a boor. And did you hear he's getting married?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Anyone we know?"

"No one of our circle. She's Amelia Cruikshank of Copley House. Probably just as horrid as Larry."

"You were right to throw him off. Despite all of my erroneous misgivings you've truly made the perfect match." Mary linked her arm into her sister's.

"It makes me so glad to hear you say that." Sybil's smiled, her eyes shining with love. "Who could've imagine we would end up like we have?"

"And never happier. I wouldn't change a thing."

Keeping their arms linked they made their way out into the hallway where Sybil turned left to go to the day nursery and Mary turned right to join Matthew in George's new bedroom. It was around the corner from Mary and Matthew's but further down the hall from the nursery so the infant's schedule wouldn't interfere with George's. His new room had a separate door to what would eventually become the school room. Both parents had agreed George would not go away to school until he was much older than many aristocratic parents who sent their five-year olds to a preparatory boarding school.

She had left Matthew with George playing with the pull string horse toy that George wouldn't go anywhere without when she went to visit her sister. Florence sat quietly watching father and child play.

Approaching their bedroom door, she heard her husband and son before she saw them.

"Neigh neigh…" Matthew called out. "Where is horsie now?" He was seated cross legged on the floor, a huge grin on this face as he cupped his hands around his mouth and cried out "Neigh…" once more.

"Nee ii nee ii…" George tried to copy the sound as he imitated a gallop around his father in a wide circle, pulling the wheeled horse toy behind him.

Mary watched them play. Never happier, she repeated to herself. So very happy.

 **July 1920**

"How's the Sport's Day final arrangements coming along?" Matthew asked. He had spent much of the past two weeks either at work or with Mary and their new infant daughter, Elinor Grace. He loved everything about their new child. She was perfect.

So now he was catching up with the plans of Trevor, Gwen, and Tom the three managers of Downton Hall.

He read some of the notes typed up in Braille by Gwen and handed to him when he sat down at the conference table. "Robert confirmed use of the south meadow, correct?"

"He did," Tom confirmed. "Joseph wants to use that for cricket on Saturday and and the athletics competitions of the 100- and 800-yard dashes, shot put, cricket ball throwing, and rope climbing on Sunday."

"Cricket ball throwing and the true game?" Matthew asked. "Has Joseph finalized the rules for his blind cricket?"

Trevor laughed. "With some help of some Australians who've also been playing around with it. They've organized some basic guidelines adapting the traditional rules to our needs. He's arriving on Friday so he can tell you more. St. D's Sports Officer is also coming to help us out."

"Excellent." Matthew nodded. He knew Joseph was expected and that he had every hope of bringing Sam along as well, hopefully to start a choir. Joseph had taken up a position with St. Dunstan's as a lay minister hosting a Sunday service for those interested, fulfilling his hope to become as close to an Anglican priest as he could manage. Combining his faith with his equally evangelical zeal for athletics he was quite in line with Sir Arthur Pearson's philosophy that inaction led to depression and defeat of the mind.

"We've also got some family games as well," Trevor added. "Wheelbarrow racing for the wives of the blinded with their spouses being trundled over the course in the barrow and some races for the children as well."

"I hope the weather hold," Gwen said. "All our effort wasted if traditional English weather interferes."

"We can but hope," Matthew riposted. "How are we on advertising? Mary got her grandmother to mention it to her Garden Society and my mother's done her bit with the Downton Hospital. We have great hopes of a good turn out of the local community to cheer everyone on."

Gwen was in charge of publicity. She glanced at her notes. "Posters and banners have arrived from the printers in York and we've got some school children helping us out with putting them up. Announcements with the schedule of events will be in tomorrow's papers as well as Friday's. Bunting, flags, and streamers ordered and should arrive within a day. Some carnival games have also been loaned from the Downton Village Faire and they will be set up on Saturday morning."

"Thanks for the update Gwen," Tom said. "The Board met and finalized all funding requirements."

"Good." Matthew had given Tom his proxy to vote for the funding as he was in Ripon the day of the meeting. "Inevitably on the day something will have been forgotten so we'll have a reserve to spend as well."

Tom turned towards his brother-in-law. "So Matthew have you signed up for anything? I've been put down for the tug of rope."

"Not cricket?" Matthew jested. He knew Robert was trying to make Tom join the village cricket match playing for the house but he kept protesting that they wouldn't get this Irish mick to play a game meant for his betters.

"At least in this case I can politely decline," Tom answered with a laugh. "I truly don't meet the requirements."

The team was going to be made up only of totally blind and slightly sighted players to make it more an equal playing field.

"I hope to join Joseph in putting on a fencing demonstration." Matthew said. "I've got to find some time though to get in some practice. I'm quite rusty."

He stood up. "Thank you everyone for all your hard work." Sticking out his hand to shake each of the manager's, the meeting adjourned.

"Miss Dawson?" Matthew called out, not sure exactly where the office manager was standing.

"Yes Mr. Crawley?"

He turned in the correct direction. "I wanted to thank you personally for the help you gave Lady Mary in visiting the tenant's cottages."

"It was not a problem. We made all the appointments and then she me invited upstairs to your sitting room to have tea with Lady Sybil. It was fun reminiscing about our adventures. She was such a great help in getting my first job outside of service."

"Did you see little Sybbie?"

"Yes. Adorable. Master George ran in as well, tearing straight at me and gave me a big hug."

Matthew beamed. He always had a radiant smile whenever George was mentioned.

"I'll see you at Sports Day, then."

Gwen called out a "good-bye" and Tom and Matthew walked outside and down to the gravel path.

"I've got a couple of things still to do," Tom said. "So I'll see you later at dinner."

"Cheerio," Matthew replied and continued on the path back to Downton.

Upon making his way up the steps at the monk's garden and through the French doors into the library, Matthew heard some of the family conversing.

"Is Mary awake?" He asked.

Cora had turned at the sound of the door opening.

"She said to have you come up as soon as you arrived. Elinor might have already been brought back to the nursery by Florence but George is napping alongside her in your bedroom."

George had become very protective of his "Muummie" of late as he called her, especially after his little sister was born two weeks earlier. It had started soon after he had been brought in by his father the day after her birth. George had peered into her cot for the first time and looked over at Matthew.

His eyes became big as saucers, Mary told Matthew later. His mouth fell open and their usually endlessly chattering child of late had nothing to say at all.

"He just stared and stared at her," Mary had said, idly stroking his jacket sleeve as he lay next to her as she rested. "This ever so concentrated look on his face. Then he burst into this huge grin, showing all his teeth."

Matthew had been delighted with the description.

Now, two weeks on, George fussed every time he was out of their presence as if he didn't want to miss anything.

"It's only natural," Granny said. "And at least it's not jealousy. Rosamund hated the sight of Robert when she was first brought in to meet the baby. She stamped her foot and marched straight out again."

Mary had taken note of that and made sure George was always given equal amounts of love and attention.

Now, two weeks later, Matthew made his way up the stairs to their bedroom. He knocked gently and entered the room. "Hello."

"Come in." Mary said.

Florence was just about to take the infant back to the nursery for her nap. So Matthew was in time to have a few minutes with his whole family.

"I'll come back," Florence spoke to Mary as she waited to give Elinor back to her mother as Mary she slipped off the bed, being careful not to disturb George who had curled up under a light blanket and was soundly asleep.

Mary took the baby and Florence left. Matthew had made his way over to the window seat.

"How are you today, my darling?" He asked, hearing her dress rustle as she approached him.

"Much better. Especially now that I'm getting back to my routine."

Mary had the baby at Downton Village hospital. Not under the dangerous conditions of Sybil earlier in the year but just as a precaution. She and baby Elinor had remained a few days after the birth under Dr. Clarkson's care. After even more bed rest threatened her sanity, Mary succeeded in showing the doctor she was fine and could resume moderate activities.

"Now if I can only convince Dr. Clarkson to let me ride again…" Mary sat down in the window seat next to Matthew. They talked in hushed tones so as not to wake George.

Matthew clucked, "now now. You know that will still be weeks away."

He heard her groan. "The weather is perfect for a gallop."

"We'll take a walk instead. When Florence takes the children back to the nursery. Get outside and into the sunshine will improve your spirits."

Matthew heard his daughter's mewls of discomfort. "Is anything the matter?"

"No. I need to go with Florence though and feed her before we take our walk."

"Can I hold her? Before you take her back?"

"Of course darling."

He held out his hands and Mary carefully lay their daughter in his arms and folded the blanket back up around her. He curled her up protectively and brought her close to his face so he could kiss her forehead.

"My little angel…"

Just then George woke up, groggy from sleep, rubbing his eyes vigorously. He blinked several times and then scrambled to the foot of the bed to make sure his parents were still within his view.

"Mamamama! Dadda!"

"Georgie…" Mary called out. She walked over and he threw himself into her arms.

He was putting on even more weight and she was still feeling a bit wobbly from the birth, so after a quick kiss, Mary put him down on the carpeted floor and held his hand as they walked back together to Matthew and Elinor still seated on the window recess.

George was still far too young to understand his father's condition so Mary had to keep a careful eye out so that their son did not jostle Matthew too much as he held their infant daughter. She gave him back his pull horse toy and he sat down and made it go around in circles as he made what she guessed were his versions of animal sounds with his mouth.

Matthew loved hearing him so contented.

"Will your mother be back in time for the Sports Day?" Mary asked.

Matthew's smile turned serious. "She telephoned before I left for the Hall this morning. She and Lord Merton will both be attending it turns out."

Mary saw the quick scowl that Matthew tried to hide. He was still getting used to idea that his mother might just remarry one day. Isobel had gone to visit Cavenham Park, the Grey family home, for a few days to meet his sons.

"She'll run that gauntlet I trust with all guns ablazing," Violet had observed upon hearing Matthew explain his mother's visit one night at dinner.

"Forewarned is forearmed for sure in this case," Matthew had answered knowing from Mary and Sybil to already distrust Dickie's horrible children.

But privately he fretted about whether his mother was making the right decisions.

"You do know they make quite the perfect couple. Your mother deserves her own life."

Matthew knew he had been caught out. "I know she does. And I am truly happy for her. But I don't want her rushing into anything."

"I'm sure they won't. Right now they just like spending time in each other's company."

Matthew settled back against the window seat. Mary rested her head against Matthew's shoulder. She knew she'd have to make a move back to the nursery in a few minutes, but for right now she just wanted to enjoy this time with her family.

The world would intrude soon enough.

XX

 _So some vignettes of Crawley life which I hope you like. Thank you again for reading, liking, reviewing._


	38. Chapter 38

XX

 **July 1920**

 _Dún do shúil, a rún mo chroí  
A chuid den tsaol, 's a ghrá liom  
Dún do shúil, a rún mo chroí  
Agus gheobhair feirín amárach_

Tom's light tenor lulled Sybbie to sleep. He delicately kissed her forehead and, even more quietly, continued until he was sure she was asleep in her cot.

 _Tá an samhradh ag teacht le grian is le teas  
Agus duilliúr ghlas ar phrátaí  
Tá an ghaoth ag teacht go fial aneas  
Agus gheobhaimid iasc amárach_

It was a quiet time. Nurse Todd had the afternoon off so Florence carried baby Elinor into the adjoining room attached to the day nursery changing and dressing her after Mary finished the early afternoon feeding. George had torn out of his room earlier after being informed by Matthew that he could tag along with Robert and himself as they explored the progress being made to renovations at the stable. Mary had seen them off with George clapping about seeing the "hoshies."

She kissed Matthew's cheek and said, "I'll meet you there. I'm just going to visit with Sybil."

"See you then, darling," he said and reached out to take Robert's upper arm. His father in law had George securely in his other arm's grasp. "We're off!" Robert cried out, designed to make George squeal even louder.

Turning the corner towards the day nursery, Mary thought about how happy she was to see Matthew and her father finally becoming, if not comfortable, then at least less ill at ease around each other. She knew Matthew liked making his own way around the estate but whenever George was with him, he always accepted help.

Mary and Sybil sat across the nursery, whispering in the window seat.

And now, listening to Tom sweetly sing the lullaby, she felt such a warm glow of familial love. Was she becoming soft? If so, who cared. It was wonderful.

"What do the words mean?" Mary queried.

"Something like "'Close your eyes, my love…my worldly joy, my treasure' and then something about being given a present on the morrow _."_ Sybil paused then continued, "'the summer shines bright and warm and potato stalks grow greener'…ummm… 'a bracing breeze blows from the south and we will have deer tomorrow…?'"

Sybil's face crinkled into a thoughtful frown. "I'm not sure about that last part…"

Tom approached the Crawley sisters. He smiled as he tenderly corrected his wife. "Fish, _mo stór_. We'll have fish tomorrow. ' _Iasc_ ' means fish."

Sybil took her husband's outstretched hand and bobbed her head. "That's it. Yes of course."

They all carefully exited the nursery to not disturb the sleeping six-month-old.

As they walked towards the red staircase, Sybil said "Tom taught me some of the Gaelic so I could sing Sybbie to sleep but he does a much better job. It's something his mother sang to him and his brothers and sisters when they were all young."

Tom gave a wistful shake of his head. "One of the few happy memories I have of my family. Most of us went to work either in domestic service or in a factory so young we were hardly together in the house. Especially after Pa died in that electric fire at the biscuit factory."

Mary knew very little about Tom's upbringing. He kept it private and she and Matthew had respected his wishes.

Sybil squeezed her husband's hand. "That's why it was so good of your brother and sister to come over for the christening."

"Kieran can be a bit puffed up and swaggering." Tom rolled his eyes. "He likes to bully me about swanning about with my 'betters' but he's family. Aileen kept him on his best behaviour."

Mary now knew that Aileen was his younger sister who had married her childhood sweetheart at seventeen. A strong, but kind hearted woman Mary had liked her immediately.

"Having her here was a nice surprise as she's got the five little ones at home." They were a hard-working farming family and her husband couldn't take the time to join his wife in England. His war widowed sister had agreed to visit and help out while Aileen made the trip to Yorkshire. After the ceremony at St. Catherine's the two siblings had stayed only one day longer before going their separate ways. Kieran back to Liverpool and Aileen to her village of Rathcoole.

Kieran had tried to persuade Tom that there were good jobs to be had in a bigger city like Liverpool, but Tom firmly responded in the negative.

Mary had found the elder brother quite abrasive in the same way she had earlier found Tom. They had the right to be, she knew. The Irish had never been treated well in England and most certainly not by the aristocracy. Robert bristled naturally. But she and Matthew had tried to be accommodating and, with Aileen and Sybil's skillfully guiding conversations away from topics of controversy, they had all managed to get through the few days without incident.

"I'm off now as I told Matthew I'd meet him at the stable to walk back with George and then drive him into Ripon so he can drop off some documents at the office."

Carson was standing at the front door awaiting her departure.

Sybil embraced Mary. "We're going to the Hall later. Gwen has said she's found some space she thinks perfect for a dispensary and nursing station."

"That's wonderful news. I know Matthew's very keen on your idea."

Tom agreed. "Having to ferry the men back and forth to the village hospital just isn't enough. It would be best to have someone on staff to see to their needs."

"We'll see you all later then," Mary waved and exited the house.

XX

"Mummeeummeemummee!" George saw his mother enter the stable and then shoved against Robert's shoulder thrashing around to be let down.

Robert at first struggled to hold onto the toddler then turned and saw Mary. With an indulgent smile he carefully set down his little grandson.

George toddled over to his mother, in his rush his cap fell off his head and his little wellies made his gait wobbly.

But he made it. "Up, UP" he demanded, flinging his arms and stomping his feet. His mouth set in a determined pout and his big blue eyes gazing in adoration at his mother.

Mary knew her old nanny would say children must be taught discipline. But really, how could she resist? She gathered him up in her arms and snuggled her face next to his. "Georgie," she said as she gave his cheek a big kiss.

Robert picked up George's tweed cap and smacked some hay stalks off against his trousers and followed his daughter and grandson over to where Mary allowed George to gently pat one of the new thoroughbreds they had acquired late last year.

Midnight was a young horse with an old soul. Mary fell in love with him immediately. He took to her reins at the hunt in the fall with ease and they rode as one over the rolling hills of Derbyshire. She hadn't been on the horse since with Elinor's pregnancy and birth.

Now she was more than eager to get back before the summer waned. After the Sports Day events at the Hall planned for the week end, she was going to start riding every morning again after Matthew left for Ripon but before she had to get down to the accounts with her father. He liked to linger over the papers in the morning and so she waited for him to finish before tackling any of the retrenchment issues for the house and estate.

"We'll be finding him his own real pony before long." Robert beamed as he watched George giggle madly as he pet the horse, his little fingers disappearing into Midnight's luscious silky mane.

"I can't wait."

"Swheet hoshie…" George said, his lisp noticeable as he mimicked his mummy's voice as he heard her call out to the animal.

"Where has Matthew gotten too?" She glanced around the stable but didn't see her husband.

Robert pointed vaguely towards the back of the stable. "He's cornered Alden to give him all the details about the repairs to the damp that's rotted out all the stalls towards the paddock."

Mary had to smile. She knew Matthew would get down to business first, then spend time with Mary and George later. He always liked to get the worse bits out of the way as he said. Then relax.

She shifted her son to get a better grip on his little body as pulled away to get closer to the horse. She didn't want to let him down afraid he'd topple over onto the cobblestones.

Robert pushed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. "He's got some notion of starting up a balage scheme here."

Mary knew this was the time for her to bat for Matthew's vision. "Finding winter feed for horses is always difficult. I think it sounds like a good idea."

Her papa's shoulders heaved up and down, almost in defeat. "We never were reduced to anything of the kind it in my father's time."

Mary knew the true cause of her father's opposition lay in being seen as a failure in the eyes of his peers. Matthew railed against the Harry Stokes of the world as charlatans. But Robert, typical of his generation, would rather been seen reaping financial windfalls through the apparent effortlessness of gods than through the grubby world of work and commerce.

The way to break down her papa's barriers was to make it clear he wasn't betraying his class.

So she artfully slipped in the comment, "Bertie's done something similar at Brancaster. I suspect they conspired when we were last at Strallan Hall. They were thick as thieves after dinner while I accompanied Edith to take little Anthony to bed."

She got her father's attention, so she continued. "We both know that neither man enjoys partaking of sherry and cigars, but they remained in that dining room for almost an hour. Eventually we had to call in the butler."

Robert fell for it, just as Mary anticipated. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Bertie, eh? He's done well for himself after Peter made him estate agent. Maybe there is something to it."

Mary turned away as her mouth curved into an amused smile. "Perhaps there is."

Just then Matthew appeared with the stable manager. She heard his stick scrap the cobblestones.  
"Matthew. There you are."

George tried to fling himself out his mother's arms "Dadda." But Mary kept him close. If he barreled over to Matthew unaware, he might make his father lose his balance and they'd both topple to the hard floor.

He looked up and smiled as he walked towards the sound of his wife and son's voices. "Georgie my boy."

Mary met him, reaching out her hand to his shoulder.

"Are you ready?" Matthew asked. "I told Mr. Harvill I'd have those titles transfers to him by the time he met with his client." His clerking supervisor had allowed him to work from home the few days before the Sports Day events as he was needed at the Hall for last minute organizational meetings.

Robert waved at his daughter. "You go ahead. I'm going to stay with Alden. The vet's been called for Hector. He's got the colic."

Mary nodded and the three of them turned back towards the house.

"You owe me a kiss, you know." Mary said as she handed George over to his father. He was already getting sleepy and slumped against Matthew's shoulder.

He cocked an eyebrow. "I'll never miss an opportunity for that. But why this particular moment?"

"I convinced Papa to go ahead with your balage idea."

"Excellent. How?"

"Oh. You know," she said lightheartedly. "Just my amazing powers of persuasion."

Matthew laughed and then stopped, reaching out with his hand to feel for his wife's shoulder then neck then her cheek.

She turned to meet her mouth to his. Warm, sweet, passionate. The pressure of his lips on hers always making her skin tingle most delightfully.

"Thank you darling." He said, reluctantly letting go. He shifted George to a better position. The toddler was now entirely asleep. "Let's get him back upstairs and we can get going."

XX

Matthew heard the gravel under his feet and knew he was still on the path towards the Hall. He needed to change into his cricket whites. Lang would be there with his knitted vest, white shirt and trousers. He had just finished sparring with Joseph in their fencing demonstration and was going to use one of the showers installed in one of the spare dormitory rooms.

Having _en suite_ wash rooms and toilets installed at the Hall had been an expense hotly debated between members of the Swire Board of Trustees. The gentlemen he had asked to join the Trust in 1919 had been either self-made men of the City of London, knowledgeable on economic matters or local aristocrats who came on Robert's recommendations and thus was a part of his desire to include his father in law in certain decision making.

But Matthew did not know them and they did not know him. Matthew had needed their monetary support for the Hall as he could not finance the entirety of the facility on his own. He knew he put them ill at ease with his own blindness. In those early days of initial construction Matthew had been on his own insisting that they expend extra money to completely modernize Hall facilities. The other men had snickered with a tinge of condescension and claimed that even boys at Eton had to share lavatories.

Matthew had set his jaw in what he knew his mother called his mulish look. He needed to get through to them. It was essential they understood. "Doing this will give each resident a sense of, not just independence, but privacy," he had said, leaning forward for emphasis, balancing his fingertips on the table top. "Their lives have been torn asunder. Helpless. Having to rely on others to do everything for them. We want to bring them back to independence. To have them to return as contributing individuals in the lives of their communities."

He paused for that to sink in and then continued. "That is the goal of Sir Arthur Pearson the founder of St. Dunstan's, and that gentlemen, is hard enough. In addition to recovering from the injuries sustained in service to King and country remember, they have to learn everything all over again. To walk on their own. To eat. To wash. To communicate. To earn money. To smoke a bloody cigarette for God's sake. So if we can give them a few luxuries like their own toilets to make that process just a bit easier I want to do so."

Matthew had gotten his way. The money had been allocated and he was now making use of one of the rooms; showering, holding onto one of the installed handrails, to steady him during his ablutions.

Once he stepped out and dried off, he felt for the cricket clothes Lang had left. He put them on and opened the door to the resident's room with a bed, set of dresser drawers, and a desk.

Lang greeted him, "Sir. I've got your plimsolls here."

"Thank you, Lang."

Matthew sat down on the chair near the desk and put on the spiked shoes. He had his doubts about whether he'd be any good at cricket, but he was willing to give it a go. They had all been on the field the day before, each man being given a chance at the pitch. He hadn't hit a single ball. Listening closely for the sound of the ball coming towards him, he just never got the coordination right.

Maybe today would be better.

The foil demonstration with Joseph had gone well. He always enjoyed the precision involved in fencing. The synchronicity as they advanced across the grid; the clash of the blades as one parried the other's attack. Mary had said everyone was caught up in their presentation. Joseph was very pleased with the results. A few of the more reluctant new residents had already come up to him asking for lessons.

Mary had then left to join his mother and some of the other guests at the tea tent.

He was eager to get back to her so once he was kitted out, he thanked Lang and started to leave. He stopped, asking Lang "are you ready for your own participation in Sports Day?"

Lang had his own demons to chase after the war. Matthew was glad he had accepted the invitation to participate in the cricket ball throwing contest. In order to have some equality it was open to sighted and non-sighted and Lang had told Matthew that in his youth he had played cricket at school. His mother's butler at Crawley House, Joseph Molesley was also participating.

"I've been warming up all morning, Mr. Crawley. I intend to do the house proud."

"Good man," Matthew proclaimed. "I'll be over later." He held out his hand for Lang to hand him his stick.

"Good luck with the cricket."

Matthew waved a good-bye and felt with his cane for the door frame. He opened the door and left, turning right down the hallway towards the exit.

He heard another voice coming from behind him.

"Matthew."

A friendly male voice, he couldn't quite place. He turned, a bit confused.

The quizzical look must have cued the other man as he added, "Richard Grey here, sorry."

Recognition dawned. "Richard, yes. How do you do." He held out his hand.

The two men shook.

"Mr. Sanderling has been giving me the tour. Quite an establishment you have here. Something of which to be proud."

Matthew smiled. He was still getting used to his mother having a suitor but was not opposed to the idea of it. They had been very close growing up, but now he had a wife, a family. It was time his mother had companionship.

"We're doing good work, I hope. Helping them get back on their feet." He accepted the compliment modestly.

Merton followed Matthew outside and onto the gravel walkway towards the Sports Day field. The older man, unsure about how much help he should give Matthew, allowed Isobel's son to guide him in the correct behaviour.

They fell into an easy side by side gait.

"As I understand it, you have a two-fold operation. Getting them used to their new situation and finding them active and useful employment."

Matthew listened intently and was impressed how easily Merton grasped this concept. It had taken months of discussion with the early board members to get them to accept it wasn't good enough to just retrain the men to walk or read. For their full recovery, they needed to get back to their regular life as quickly as possible.

He snapped his fingers excitedly and said, "that's it precisely. They've been ignored or smothered at home, they feel like so much flotsam, useless debris no one needs. We need to first take them out of that and show them the skills needed to live as blinded. Once there, they can either go back to the profession they had before, or find them jobs in trade or whatever."

"We've got some unused cottages at Cavenham Park. I could take at least two or three families who might be interested in farming. Also Mr. Sanderling said you had apprentice farmhands in pigs and poultry. I'm sure our farm agent could find some jobs there as well."

"That would be marvelous, Richard. Thank you."

Matthew realized this man was just what Mary said. Kind hearted yet pragmatic. He felt very satisfied his mother had found a good man.

The two men finished the walk and Merton left Matthew after being called away by Robert on an issue related to the distance between the bowler and the batsman. The two men were to be the referees and needed to confer on the adjusted rules related to blind cricket.

Matthew, after being told by Merton that he was in front of the tea tent, went inside in search of his wife.

XX

Mary carefully studied Matthew walking down the gravel path towards the Hall with Lord Merton. The two seemed to be in earnest conversation which she took as a good sign. She wanted Matthew to give her godfather a chance to show he was an honourable man who made a good match for his mother.

As long as they all kept their distance from his disagreeable children.

She had just finished watching Tom's team prevail in the tug of war. Sybil had remained with Tom while Mary headed over to the tent to see the rest of her family. Along the way she met up with Matthew's mother.

Isobel, beside Mary, watched as well. Not wanting to appear nervous, she did want her son to like Dickie. Never in her life had she expected to find love again. Not the same of course as the love she had for Reginald. They had built a life together. Raised their beautiful son. His death had been devastating. But Matthew had been right to insist she move with him to Downton when he became Grantham's heir. To leave Manchester wasn't to leave her past for she took her memories of their life with her. But it did mean she was open to new experiences in ways she had not expected. The war, unfortunately, giving her charitable work immediate purpose and meaning.

Matthew didn't need her anymore. And that was a good thing. He had found his own way in the world.

They had ever been two against the world.

At thirteen, his blindness had thrown him into a funk of resentment for years. The recovery at 26 he had taken as a gift. She feared it coloured his judgments. He lost perspective as he indulged in acquiring things and moving in circles far beyond what they were used to and he resented her reminding him that he'd most probably lose his eyesight again, saying that he was finally living the life he imagined for himself.

Which only made her concerns grow.

Then the doubts about him choosing the haughty daughter of the nobility over a sweet girl of his own station, especially as he had asked Lavinia first. She accepted his argument that he had to choose what he called undying love over doing the dutiful thing. He could not live his life without Mary and, in letting her go, hoping it meant that Lavinia would find that kind of love for herself. She also knew her son well enough to realize that even as he tried to hide it, he was wracked with guilt.

Unfortunately, his sense of guilt was only exacerbated by Lavinia's untimely death. She wondered if he'd recover as he tended to wallow in self-pity at such moments. But he did. He asked Mary to marry him and they quickly became parents of her rambunctious grandson.

And now after getting to know Mary she'd be the first to admit she had been wrong to question Matthew's decision of a wife. Mary may still be very much of her class and station, but she was also devoted to Matthew. When his blindness returned, she just got on with their life together. Had refused to let anyone doubt her ability to handle it. And in so doing, had allowed Matthew to recover from being knocked for six by the reoccurrence of what he had thought of as the blight of his existence. When she had first visited, he had the same morose outlook and biting sarcasm of his younger years. But slowly, through Mary's love and George's needs he had come around. Realized his own affliction was nothing compared to that of those who returned from the war. That it was selfish to the point of indulgence to resent his life when he could make something of it instead.

She was so proud of his accomplishments. The Swire Trust. Downton Hall. His clerkship as a solicitor. Husband. Father.

Her son.

Her Matthew had found his life. So now it was time to live her own to the fullest. And she was fast becoming sure that Dickie Merton was that future.

These thoughts both comforted and excited her. To think at her age, she could start on a new adventure.

"Matthew's approval won't come easy." Isobel observed. "It looks like he's practicing interrogation techniques."

Mary glanced over to see Matthew's head cocked to listen intently to something Merton was saying and after nodding vigorously he stuck his hand out and snapped his fingers and impatiently responded.

"They do seem deep in conversation. I'm sure he'll like him once he gets to know him. Matthew's very reasonable." Mary exchanged looks with Isobel. "But really," Mary shrugged insouciantly, "do you need his endorsement? It's your life."

Isobel approved of her daughter in law's shrewd remark. "You are quite right of course. But just as he didn't need my sanction to marry you, he wanted it anyway. I admit I was hesitant to give it. You came from a world that looks right past my son and pretend he's invisible. Your balls, your racing, your frivolous social calendar. I worried that though he could see, he was blinded by his passion."

Mary pinched her lips. She knew Isobel had misgivings. Had she done enough to convince her?

Isobel took her daughter in law's hand. "But I was wrong. Your love strengthened him. You make a fine pair."

Mary smiled. "And Matthew will see the same thing in you and Dickie. I know he will."

They clasped hands, let go, and made their way towards the tent sent up for tea and cakes. Mary looked in and espied her grandmother. They took seats next to Violet Crawley and Edith.

"Bertie has been called away to help out with the cricket throwing," Edith informed her sister. "He's like an excitable little boy."

"They all are today," Mary answered. "I know Sybil wanted to get involved but Dr. Clarkson said it was too soon after the birth."

They looked at each other and laughed in unison, "next year for sure!"

"I'm having a luncheon next week," Granny announced. "You and Lord Merton are hereby invited." She had taken in the scene and intended to personally encourage the budding romance between Isobel and Merton. She hated drama that happened off stage. And as the two matriarchs, they should get to know each other better.

"That would be delightful."

Just then a high pitch wail broke the sedate atmosphere of the tent compelling all three women to turn to see what could possibly have occurred to warrant a sound like a German shell screeching above a trench.

It was only Rose being Rose. Matthew had entered the tent and Rose made a dash over with a squeal, taking his arm and immediately chatting up a storm about how handsome he looked in his cricket whites. It caused everyone to start and stare in the tent.

Mary observed it all with a wry grin. She turned back and calmly finished her tea before standing up to greet her husband.

Rose was rather obsessed with Matthew it was true. But it was just an innocent thing. She was excitable by nature and Matthew enjoyed her companionship. He never had a sister, he told Mary, and Rose was very much like one. She confessed to him her youthful dreams and he tried to be like a not too stuffy older brother in tempering her worst impulses.

Plus, she was one of the very few people outside his immediate family who never treated him as an invalid about his blindness.

She just got on with bossing him about. Just like now. Demanding she be allowed to cheer him on during the cricket match.

"No one else will dare. But I'll clap and shout every time you're at bat."

Matthew laughed. "Will you moan as loud when I'm declared out?"

"It will be devastating." Rose managed to sound breathless with disappointment at that potential outcome.

Matthew chuckled to himself and then got to the point. "I'm in search of Mary. Is she in the tent?"

Rose saw Mary stand up at the sound of Matthew's question. She waved and started to walk over to meet them in the middle of the tent.

"Here she is now." Rose waved and clapped her gloved hands. The two women embraced and then Rose exclaimed with bated breath, "Mary, Mary. I'm so happy to see you again. You look simply divvy. I'm dying to see George. And the new little one. I hear she's an absolute angel."

"Thank you Rose. Elinor is sleeping and George is having his lunch. We're going to get him now so he can watch the games."

"I can't wait to hug and squeeze him.," Rose exclaimed. "I'll wait with Aunt Violet, then. She's calling me over."

"You go," Matthew said. "And we'll be back before you know it."

He reached out to take his wife's arm and the left the tent.

"She is quite exhausting." Matthew spoke quietly towards his wife's ear. "But I can't help but get caught up in her excitement."

"She's a dear, it's true." Mary stopped to turn her husband's collar back into its proper position against his knitted vest. "And she is quite correct you know."

"About what?"

"You are devastatingly handsome in your whites."

Matthew, making her point even more clearly, blushed a deep red. "Darling…"

They kissed. He felt the rim of her hat against his forehead and he ducked under it just in time to meet her lips.

"I really haven't played cricket at all. We didn't have much time to practice. I'm sure I'll drop the ball. You won't laugh when that happens, promise."

"Of course not. You can always count on me."

Matthew loved the sound of his wife's intimate voice. The one she used only with him.

"I didn't think it possible to love as much as I love you."

Mary touched his cheek as a single tear rolled down. "You're going to make me cry as well, my darling. What a pair we are."

They lingered under the privacy of a sprawling cedar tree to kiss again.

"Let's go get George. He's been talking up a storm about 'crichet' ever since I gave him that ball to play around with."

Matthew gripped his wife's shoulder and they made their way back towards the house.

XX

Mary knew her husband was pleased with himself. He had managed to strike the ball. At his time at the pitch he heard the bowler shout "play" and he shifted his weight and made contact precisely when he heard the rattle of the ball bearings hurtling down onto his position. He moved forward, intercepting the ball while protecting the wicket as he didn't hear any crunching sound.

The ball was caught on the bounce and he was out but it hadn't mattered.

"Joseph modified the rule about the bounce but it only makes sense. Next time I'll score some runs."

Mary patted his knee indulgently. "We were all very proud. You heard Georgie?"

Matthew grinned ear to ear. "Yes." His little boy's screech had echoed across the pitch.

"He wanted to go chase after the ball, but Mama held him tight."

"Your papa will have him playing for the house in no time."

They were seated on the stone wall where they had first interacted and where was sure he had fallen in love. George had been taken back to the house by Cora and Isobel and they were alone.

Upon first arriving, Matthew took a handkerchief out of his right pocket and placed it down just as he had almost four years previous. He gestured towards Mary.

"Sit?" Asking the same question. His eyes bright and cheeky.

"Of course." Mary knew what he was doing. "Should I say something rude and haughty?"

"You do have to be yourself…"

Mary gave him a playful swat then sat down beside him.

She put her head on his shoulder. He leaned in and kissed her head, her scent floral and intoxicating.

"We've got such the good life, my darling."

Mary understood what it had taken to get Matthew to this point in his life. And she had to agree.

"I wouldn't change a single thing."

They shared a kiss and spent more than a few minutes sitting quietly, listening to a lark sing a sweet song in the distance.

XX

😊 _I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I loved writing it. I love reading all your comments and reviews. I've tried to be as faithful to the time period for the blinded as possible. There will be a couple of epilogues (Like GoT tonight… I won't spoil anything lol)… one in 1923 and another in 1925. I've used several books for this story –the most important being the memoirs of the amazing real people who founded St. Dunstan's Sir Arthur Pearson and Lord (Ian) Fraser who took over in 1921 upon Pearson's tragic death_.


	39. Chapter 39: Epilogue

XX

 **October 1923**

"It resembles some kind of medieval torture device," Violet pushed the mechanical thing away with a mischievous smile. "I won't have that thing ruin Lewis's work." She pat her hair bun protectively. "It took all morning as it is."

She refused to put the headset over her hairdo.

Robert grunted as he knew his mother would not take first honours and motioned for Thomas to bring it back to him.

"Me! Me! Me!" George then interjected. "I want toooooo…ooh oooh." He jumped one foot to the other.

Jack then chimed in. "I want a turn."

"No Jack." George thrust his chin out. "I'm older." Patience was not yet George's specialty as a high-spirited four-year-old.

Jack, Edith and Anthony's son who now went by the diminutive for his given middle name of John, folded his arms across his chest and looked unimpressed. He had just turned four and considered himself the same age as his cousin.

"Come here darling," Edith gestured to her son. Though heavily pregnant with her second child she managed to get him on her lap. "We'll all have a turn."

Across the room Elinor asked her other cousin. "What is it?"

The other little girl shrugged. Both girls, attention diverted from the dollhouse set up in the corner, moved towards the thing that was getting everyone's attention.

The three-year-old squinted in thought. "Are they inside the box?"

"What?"

"The people…?"

Sybil loved how her child was already trying to figure things out. "The sound actually travels through the air like waves. They are caught by the machine and turned back into sound so you can hear." She had some experience with transmitting devices at dressing stations in France during the war.

Sybbie was far too young to understand and her attention was already diverted by her cousins squabbling.

After a great deal of thought George was sure he had the upper hand with his cousin. "I should be first. He's my daddy."

Elinor, never one to let her big brother get his way, observed "my daddy too."

Jack giggled.

George scowled but knew the truth of that. He compromised. "We can share."

The two boys rushed over to the table where their grandfather was poring over a number of dials and gauges.

Elinor lost interest as soon as she gained the upper hand on her brother and walked back to Sybbie. The two girls began to share a piece of cake held by their , unused to having so many little ones around her at the same time, carefully cut up the slice into smaller pieces and gave each girl a fork.

She had always adhered to the traditions of her era and seldom spent more than an hour or two a day with her own daughters. But Mary, Sybil, and Edith had much more modern ideas about motherhood. And she had to admit she loved spending time with the four grandchildren. And the one asleep upstairs. Sebastian Reginald Crawley, Mary and Matthew's second boy, was sound asleep in the nursery at Grantham House. At eight months he was just beginning to scrabble around and had exhausted himself trying to chase his brother and sister on all fours.

"When will it work?" the boys whinged in unison.

Robert indulgently patted his grandsons on their heads. "Let me tune it first. I need to concentrate." He turned back to the radio.

"What's the number?" Robert fiddled with the dial but could hear no sound in the headset.

Thomas went to fetch the _Radio Times_ with all the frequency facts from the front hall table.

"Is Daddy on now? Is Daddy on now?" George stretched his arms towards his Grandmama Isobel.

Isobel reached out her arms and George scrabbled onto her lap. "It won't be long now. Your grandfather is trying to …to …" she paused, not sure exactly what Robert was doing. She glanced over at Cora who shrugged helplessly.

The ugly brown case with knobs, tubes, and dials that now dominated her beautifully appointed drawing room at Grantham House was Robert's latest acquisition. A Burndept apparatus he had called it, clapping his hands together eagerly as Thomas and Jimmy carried it into the room earlier in the day.

He added smartly, "British made, of course."

Thomas returned and started perusing the pages for information.

Several moments of fussing around ensued. "Move the aerial," Robert requested. Jimmy did so.

"It really should be on the roof…."

Cora's eyes narrowed even more.

"Now," Robert consulted the manual. "We need to connect these terminals to the battery…" He scratched his head. Thomas stepped forward. "Here, sir."

"Good, Good." Robert moved aside. "Is the switch on?" He asked, consulting the manual again.

Carson, standing near the window, grimaced while slowly clenching his fists behind his back.

Violet leaned over towards Edith, "Poor Carson. He does hate disorder."

Edith smiled. "The wave of the future for good or ill. Bertie can't wait for the northern stations begin broadcasting." Her husband of two years had accompanied Mary and Matthew to the BBC headquarters, very interested to see the operation of the new technology.

"Is that why we had to traipse down here in September?"

"BBC 2LO was the first to be licenced," Tom explained, overhearing the conversation. "I think Manchester, Cardiff, Glasgow were next. We don't yet have a station near Downton."

Sybil said, "I do hope we won't have missed Matthew's reading with all this commotion."

George's eyes popped wide at his aunt's fear. "I want to hear Daddy!"

"We will, we will," Robert reassured. He returned to bending over the receiver in deep concentration, slowly turning one of the handles and put the metal cup his mother had refused earlier to the left side of his face. Using what he called the 'broad catcher,' he asked Thomas to read out the signal number again.

"It's 369 mediumwave frequency meters, m'lord." Thomas put down the periodical and looked over Lord Grantham's shoulder.

A loud screeching sound followed by a series of whistles and an ear deafening whine emitted from the device. Robert pulled the cup away from his ear as he continued to tune. He could hear his mother's groans in the background but ignored her. He wanted everything set up in time.

"Here we are…" He heard the faint sounds of talking and then an operatic singer. "I believe that's coming from Covent Garden. Matthew must be on later."

Sybil reached over and took the _Radio Times_ from the table _._ "It says here he'll be on at 5:15." She turned so everyone could see the picture of Matthew in a tweed suit next to the article describing the new series of audio broadcasts he was to make over the next several weeks. He was to read Agatha Christie's mystery _The Mysterious Affair at Styles_ , introducing a new detective Hercule Poirot in 15-minute interval broadcasts three days a week.

The book, among several requested by residents at both Downton Hall and St. Dunstan's, became part of a list compiled by Matthew. Over the past two years he had worked with Major Buchanan in various exercise broadcasts, first at Buchanan's own small radio station and then when he joined the limited share consortium to create the BBC. Matthew had told his old commanding officer about the difficulties of finding methods of reproducing clear sound for reading books to the blinded. Gramophone sound was succinctly described by Ian Fraser, "as vile." Once the BBC was fully operational and ready to expand programming, Matthew agreed to volunteer four times a year to read the chosen books into a microphone at either BBC London or in one of the northern stations when they were up and ready.

Matthew had left an hour ago to prepare for his first presentation. The _Radio Times_ had sent a photographer and journalist the previous week to create the short biography to accompany the announcement of his radio broadcasts.

"No going back now," Mary had jested as she straightened his tie before he sat down on the settee in their sitting room for his photograph to be taken. He had given her a crooked grin and a kiss on the cheek.

Now, as it was his first time on the air, Mary had accompanied her husband to the north bank of the Thames and Savoy Place where the BBC had their new studios. He had been nervously excited all day and left with her in the AC eager to finally get on the transmission underway. At the last-minute Bertie asked if he could join them as he wanted to tour the studio so he followed behind in his own Vauxhall motor.

Seated in front of the microphone stand, Matthew knew he had to speak into the circular center of the device that was mounted in springs to isolate them from any vibration and linked to a length of cord connected to another device that would convert the sound waves into electric voltage.

Buchanan was also on hand for reassurance.

"Everything is ready, Matthew. Are you?"

Matthew nodded.

Mary squeezed his shoulder in support and on Buchanan's signal moved away from the table to join Bertie whose gaze was fixed on the technicians working the equipment.

A signal light came on and a radio operator said, "ready."

Matthew began to read…

 _The intense interest aroused in the public by what was known at the time as "The Styles Case" has now somewhat subsided. Nevertheless, in view of the world-wide notoriety which attended it, I have been asked, both by my friend Poirot and the family themselves, to write an account of the whole story…_

Mary and the children had the sole privilege of listening to him in the past. Now others would realize what she'd known since she met him.

His voice could melt the world.

It was warm and rich toned, inviting attention. Seductive, without guile or artifice. He bade you enter the world the author created by manipulating his vocal cords to achieve a variety of accents to differentiate characters and altering the tone and speed of his voice to either slow down or drive the narrative along.

"He's very good." Bertie quietly said to Mary, leaning over to whisper in her ear as both had been told to keep their voices down.

"Matthew always has the children in thrall every time he reads bedtime stories."

"I should do the same with Jack and the new baby." Bertie's attention was soon drawn back to the confusing array of dials, wiring, vacuum tubes, and coiled wiring that took up an entire wall of the broadcast room.

"The possibility of this equipment for communication across the battlefield to transmit vital information…" the soldier in Bertie re-emerging as he considered the leaps being made in technology in front of his eyes. "It'll alter everything."

"Hopefully it will never have to be used as such," Mary observed. Memories of war injured soldiers flooded her brain.

Bertie paused, his own mind thrust back once again into the cauldron the western front. He nodded solemnly. "I hope you're right."

The two continued in silence to listen to Matthew read the few chapters.

XX

George sat on his bed rearranging the blocks of Braille letters that Matthew had made for him. He closed his eyes, imitating his father and reading the words out loud. He then opened them again to rearrange into other words. He was waiting for his father to return to say good night. Mummy had arrived back earlier in the evening without Daddy. She had tucked him into bed saying that "yes he could stay up for a just a little while longer."

Hers and Matthew's bedchamber adjoined their eldest child's at Grantham House and she kept the door open between rooms as she retired to bed. She knew George would not settle down until Matthew returned. Elinor, in the day nursery alongside Sybbie, had fallen asleep an hour previous. The Pelham's had taken a room at the Savoy so Jack had left with his parents after Bertie returned from the BBC studios.

Matthew had stayed at the station to finalize his schedule of audio readings. Now, after he stopped by his bedroom to greet his wife, he popped his head around the doorframe into George's room.

He watched as his son arranged the blocks and grazed the tops of each of them with his fingertips.

The ever-present lump in his throat threatened to choke his ability to breathe.

Matthew blinked and tried to recover.

George, concentrating very hard, did not notice.

He had time to take it all in.

He could see his son.

No matter how much longer he possessed his sight - a moment, a minute, a day, or a lifetime – watching his children would never lose its ability to take his breath away.

Watching their joy. He found himself staring at them as they played, laughing and smiling across the lawn at Downton. They would wave to him and he would wave back. Or their pain. Demanding with a large pout that he kiss a skinned knee to make it better.

The way they took his returned eyesight completely in their stride just as they had his blindness.

Mary had confided to him that when George was three he would walk beside Matthew swinging his hand out in time to Matthew's cane, "pretending as proud as you like that he was just like his father."

Adults could learn a great deal from their children.

XX

"Daddy!" George saw his father at the door.

"Hello George." Matthew walked towards the bed. "What new words have you learned?"

"Bird and bear and bee and blue…"

Matthew nodded as he settled down on the bed as George continued to list all the B words he'd learned in braille. The governess they had hired at Downton agreed that as George had been interested in copying what his father did when reading them bedtime stories from the Braille books he had collected, he could learn to read in English at the same time.

So he had asked the woodshop at St. Dunstan's to make the toy Braille blocks.

"That's very good."

George looked up at him, his face scrunched in thought. "You don't have to read like this anymore."

Matthew gently kissed his forehead. "No," he said. "Not right now."

His eyesight had returned two months ago. He woke one morning and he could see. No headaches even to premeditate it's return. They had all taken a trip to Glasgow to see Dr. Macewan that week, the children included to get their first examinations. The doctor said the tumour had moved just like last time, but as usual there was no determined length of time as to how long it would stabilize in this new position.

The children had checked out fine for the time being. But Macewan wanted to see them both on a regular basis. The new infant as well as soon as he was older.

Ever onto a new subject, George said "I heard you on the radio. Jack wanted to be first but I won. Donk told us to be careful with the ear catchers and not to break them so we took turns."

"What did you think of it?"

George shrugged. "I think you should do _Wind in the Willows_. Toad finding himself in a dungeon." He started to imitate Matthew's croaky speech, " _'This is the end of everything…O unhappy and forsaken Toad_.'"

Matthew laughed heartily at his son's spot on duplication of his toad voice. He didn't expect George to be interested in an intricate parlor mystery.

"Maybe next time," Matthew managed to say in between bursts of chuckles.

He looked up and saw Mary holding Elinor in her arms.

"Another one who can't sleep without saying good night to Daddy." Mary walked over to George's bed. She put Elinor down and took a seat at the foot of the bed.

"Daddy Daddy…" Elinor held out her arms.

Matthew scooped her up into his own. "What's this angel? Can't sleep?"

"I need a kiss!" Elinor set her mouth in a pout.

"Then you shall have one." Matthew kissed her cheek.

Elinor smiled broadly showing all her front teeth. Fully satisfied she had her father's love she scrambled back over to Mary's lap and cuddled against her mother.

Mary looked up and drank in her husband's adoring regard. Sometimes he startled her with the amount of love she saw in his eyes. She had adjusted to the blank gaze of his blindness.

Now they burned with the fierce glow of his soul.

"You are an amazing mother," Matthew said, George burying his head into his father's shoulder as his body finally won the battle for sleep.

Mary, never one for public displays, found herself fighting back a tear. "If I am it's because I have the best family in the world."

They continued to look with shining love upon the other until each of their children fell asleep in their arms.

XX  
 _Ok…so this the first of a few epilogues. I didn't intend to put this out separately from the rest of the chapter on 1923 and 1924 but since it's Mother's Day (in USA) this is all about the children, I thought it appropriate. Yes Matthew's eyesight has returned… but his condition remains the same. We'll pick back up with 1923 in the next section of the epilogue. Thank you very very much for reading, liking, reviewing. It means the world to me._


	40. Chapter 40: Epilogue 2

**_August 1923_**

 _XX_

 _Matthew opened his eyes. The light bothered him. He put his hand up to shield his eyes from the glare of the open window._

 _And thought nothing more about it._

 _Anna had opened the draperies earlier he seemed to recall, hearing her rustle about but he was still half asleep. He mumbled a "thank you" and pushed himself further under the blankets to catch a few more winks of slumber. Mary was away, visiting Edith and Bertie at Strallan Hall with the two older children. The Pelham's split their time between estates though Edith was now considering putting Strallan Hall out to let on a long-term lease and spending all her time in Northumberland. The Hall was Jack's inheritance and she'd never sell, but having them all live where Bertie was estate manager would make things easier._

 _George and Jack were great pals and their eldest son had been asking and asking to visit his cousin. Mary took Elinor as well, in part to give her husband the time he needed to finish some work. Nurse Todd accompanied Mary to help with the children. Florence kept Sebastian to his regular routine at Downton. Matthew also reassured his fretting wife, saying he would make sure the six-month-old was not without his share of family love._

 _Mary left the day before yesterday and, as soon as she was gone, he had gotten down to business. He had toiled long into the night to finish a will codicil, using his Braille typewriter to create the documents that would later be copied into English by one of the secretaries at Harvill and Carter. He had hired an assistant to recite him all the legal books that were not in Braille, a tedious job at best and it was usually someone who also wanted to take the Solicitor's exam and so was willing to read and learn along with Matthew. He also paid the expenses of one of the secretaries at the firm to take a course in Braille and transcribe his notes and drafts into finished documents._

 _It had taken longer than he expected to finish his apprenticeship. Most were done within two years but because of his condition, the recurrent headaches, his duties to the Trust, and the extended time to read and research and write it had been over three years and still a while to go before he felt proficient at the job._

 _So, after a few more minutes sleep, he grunted and rubbed his eyes awake. There was a great deal more to finish on the codicil._

 _He looked outward from the bed and yawned._

 _That glare again. He put his hand up._

 _And then he realized._

 _Realized the light bothered him. Bothered him because he could see. He blinked._

 _The bed covers. The rails. The windows beyond._

 _He put his hand again up to his face._

 _Wiggled his fingers._

 _He blinked even more rapidly. Still half asleep he tried to rouse his sleepy brain. He wasn't dreaming._

 _He could see again._

 _He fell back against the covers and felt for Mary's side of the bed. Except she wasn't there. Of course! She was with Edith._

 _He remembered the first time this happened. At that party in London. He opened his eyes, looked up, and saw Mary's face. Her beautiful, astonished face. He knew even then he loved her. Despite his engagement to Lavinia…despite everything. He knew in his heart he would ever truly love only one woman._

 _Mary was so strong when his sight failed him._ _She was his stick. His sanity. His soul._

 _And now he could see again. For how long? Who knew?_

 _He pulled himself up in bed and felt for the edge of the mattress. And then remembered he didn't have to do that. He rubbed his eyes and focused._

 _This time he wouldn't fall apart. This time he'd remain true to himself. The self who had learned so much after losing his sight again. No chip on his shoulder. No refusal to love life as it was. No bitter laced retort that God was playing a bad game of roulette with him. No demands anyone give him what he felt he had been cheated._

 _He already had everything. Mary. Their children._

 _The happiest of lives._

 _He knew exactly where he wanted to go first. To see Sebastian. The saying of it to himself made him almost giddy._

 _Putting on his slippers and dressing robe he turned and walked towards the door. Stopped. Instinctively reached out his hand for something…_

 _What was he looking for…?_

 _He scanned the room. Of course. His cane leaned against the chair by the bed._

 _With a purposeful smile, he turned away from it, unfastened the door, and walked towards the nursery. At first disoriented as the hallway appeared to expand and contract, he stopped and got his bearings. Putting his hand against the wall to balance himself again._

 _Once his eyes got used to focusing again, he continued. He poked his head inside the nursery. He could hear Florence humming in the adjoining room where she prepared the baby's formula and food._

 _Seb's cot was against the far wall. Matthew walked over, already hearing the baby's coos and gurgles. Mary said Sebastian was the happiest of children, hardly ever bawled or fussed._

 _Matthew reached a finger down and, after just a flicker of hesitation, he stroked two fingers against his child's head._

 _And let the tears fall against his cheeks._

 _Such a beautiful child. Blue eyes like his own. Tufts of curly hair._

 _He remembered George's birth. Mary's pangs and yelps. His own terror as the darkness descended. An all too fleeting glimpse of a tiny red-faced baby, Mary's tired face, etched in both pain and relief._

 _A dimming of the light. Then nothing._

 _No, he corrected himself. The very opposite of nothing._

 _His life had truly begun._

 _Sebastian turned his head and looked directly at his father and smiled. A big toothy smile, showing all two of them as he opened his mouth and then shut it, pursing his lips and making smacking noises._

 _He knew that sound. "Are you hungry little one?"_

" _Would you like to feed him, sir?" Florence stepped into the room. She was used to her employer's early morning visits._

 _Except this time, he looked directly at her. "Florence…. I…" Instinctively he touched his eyes._

" _Oh Mr. Crawley." The nursery maid gasped and put her hand to her mouth. "That's wonderful." Her cheerful disposition had been one of the reasons the Crawley's knew she'd be the perfect nursery maid and nanny to their children._

 _Matthew turned back and lifted his son out of his cot. Looked around the space. "I...I think I'll sit in my usual spot."_

 _He sat down in the window seat and shifted Sebastian until he was safe in his arms. Florence held out the bottle and smiled. "I'll leave you to it."_

 _Focusing to make sure he didn't misjudge the distance, he took the glass bottle._

 _And although Florence left the room to give him some privacy, he did note she kept peeking around the corner to observe the baby's progress with the milk._

 _Sebastian gobbled down the nourishing drink. Matthew watched every moment as his son drained the bottle._

" _Amazing…" he whispered, grinning madly even as he struggled to keep his focus. Did he need really glasses? How ironic if so._

 _He put Sebastian to his shoulder and using the palm of his hand gently pat his back until he burped. The baby's eyes already closing again._

 _Florence returned to the room._

" _I'll let you get on with things…" Matthew gave his son a last kiss on his cheek and handed the sleeping infant back to the nursery maid. "Thank you for all your help with the children. It's very much appreciated."_

 _Florence nodded and brought the child back to the cot._

 _Matthew closed the door behind him and walked down the hall to his dressing room._

 _Lang was inside brushing his dinner jacket. "Sir…"_

 _He walked over to where Matthew had left his cane the previous evening._

" _Lang, don't worry. I don't need my stick. It seems I've regained at least partial eyesight. I'm a little disoriented but I'll be fine."_

 _Lang looked up, pausing ever so briefly in his controlled movements. "That is very good news, sir." Then he returned to work, asking about his daily schedule "Did you want the tweed today?"_

 _Matthew noticed the smile, but he didn't need to see to know Lang was happy for him. While_ _maintaining the restrained air of a future earl's valet, the up ticked inflection of his voice and the jaunty sweep with which he brushed the jacket were the kind of non-visual cues Matthew used to guide his world._

" _Yes," Matthew answered crisply because he knew that's what Lang would expect. "Thank you."_

 _After dressing and affixing his tie, Matthew walked through the bedroom and into the sitting room on the other side. He could finally appreciate Mary's meticulous approach to decorating. Stylish yet restrained, he realized it fit her personality. And it was beautiful._

 _Turning his head, he moved towards the telephone on the desk near the window. Installed so he could easily contact the Hall and his law office, he used it now to ask that Carson get him Strallan Hall._

" _I wish to speak to my wife."_

 _XX_

 _George squealed in delight. "There he is!" He waved his little hand as fast as he could. "He sees me!"_

 _Matthew indeed saw him. His son's nose pressed against the glass in the back of the Rolls Royce as it pulled into the drive at Downton. He smiled broadly and waved back. George was as impish and cheeky looking as he imagined. He shared the blue eyes of all the younger Crawley men._

 _Elinor, sitting more primly and properly next to Mary, also looked at him. Shyly. She didn't quite grasp her father's blindness so while also excited because her brother was, she also knew she was supposed to sit quietly by her mother's side until the car stopped. Her brown eyes, though, viewed him steadily._

 _Matthew recalled seeing a picture of Mary as a child on the piano in the music room. Dark haired with eyes showing wisdom beyond her years. Elinor was exactly the same._

 _Mary helped the children out the side door of the car. Jimmy was on hand to take the cases. Nurse Todd got out on the other side._

 _George galloped into his father's arms as he bent down to hug his son._

" _Daddy!"_

" _Georgie boy!"_

" _Mummy says you got your eyes back." George gave his father a searching look. "Can you see me now truly?"_

 _Matthew's mouth trembled. He bit back even more tears. He'd be a complete mess by the end of this day. Gloriously so._

" _I can. I can see you truly."_

 _George stood back and said proudly. "I'm taller than Jack. You can see that and tell him so."_

 _Matthew couldn't help but chuckle at his son's four-year-old priorities. He loved it. "I can't wait to tell him I see you are."_

 _George giggled and climbed into his father's arms and gave him a hug. And then asked to be let down so he could go see Hasina, grandfather's new Labrador._

 _Matthew did so. He stood back up and saw Mary._

 _One regarded the other. Any more intimate reunion would take place when they were alone._

 _He felt a tug on his trousers. He looked down where Elinor, holding her mother's hand, pulled on his leg to get his attention. She was holding her somewhat worn but well-loved golden-brown mohair stuffed Steiff bear with black glass eyes named Mr. Pookie._

" _Daddy," she whispered._

 _He squatted down to be face to face with his daughter. He had to squeeze down on his lips to prevent any more tears when he saw her beautiful ringlets of hair, her sweetly serious face._

" _Pookie bear can see," she said. "Just like you."_

 _Matthew nodded, the side of his mouth edging into a crooked smile. "I'm glad. Maybe he can have tea with us later."_

 _Elinor kissed his cheek and ran after her brother who was chasing the dog. Nurse Todd made sure they didn't get too rambunctious._

 _Returning to his full height again, Matthew greeted his wife. "Hello darling."_

 _He took her hand and gripped it tightly within his own. They couldn't pull their eyes away from the other._

 _Mary was so happy for Matthew. She knew how much he longed to see the children._

 _And this time… this time Mary noticed no desperation in those eyes. When first married she found him absorbing details like a man unable to enjoy any moment without believing it would disappear. He was much more comfortable in his skin this time around. The chip on his shoulder he wore as a shield against the world was gone._

 _Matthew noticed she noticed his more relaxed state. "Joseph has always tried to teach me that life has a way of distinguishing between the things that matter and the things that don't," Matthew allowed his eyes to gaze back to the children laughing and playing with the labrador. "I've learned what's important."_

 _Mary leaned just a bit closer to her husband. "Have you told the rest of the family?"_

 _Matthew dipped his head. "Instead of having breakfast upstairs like I initially planned, I went down to the dining room. No one else was there except Carson whom I informed immediately once he noticed I didn't have my stick."_

" _Carson doesn't wear his emotion on his sleeve, but I'm sure he was pleased for you."_

" _Yes," Matthew agreed. "Another lesson learned. You know I've always believed the whole system to be outdated. Employees are paid to do a job. And no matter what your father or my mother would say, any kind of familiarity on the part of servants was an illusion of the upper classes. But Florence, Lang, Carson even were not feigning happiness at the return of my eyesight. We are all a part of each other's lives."_

 _Mary brushed his cheek with her gloved fingers. "They are happy for you because you are a good man. They enjoy working for you because of who you are. It makes all the difference."_

 _Matthew knew this wasn't the time for intimacy, but he leaned down and whispered, "I love you so very much."_

" _I know you do."_ _Mary smiled. "What was Papa's reaction?"_

 _Matthew took his wife's arm and they started back to the house. The children running ahead as Nurse Todd took them upstairs to change._

" _While serving myself from the sideboard in the dining room Robert arrived and he didn't notice anything. He filled a plate and sat down and started to read the papers. I…" Matthew paused, a cheeky grin on his face. "I couldn't help it so I asked if I could read the Times after he was finished."_

 _Mary clucked merrily. "Oh you. What did he do?"_

" _He grunted and nodded and went back to reading. And then…then slowly the paper dropped down from where it covered his face and he stared at me. His brow deeply furrowed as he realized I looked directly back. Then the penny dropped and he said, 'you can see me'…." Matthew chuckled again. "I couldn't keep the game up anymore and smiled and told him it was the truth. We spent the rest of the meal talking estate business. Tom arrived and he was informed as well. I'm to meet them later to go over some accounting."_

" _Sounds like you enjoy being part of the team again."_

 _Matthew shrugged. "I'm just as happy leaving it all in yours and Tom's capable hands. But I will like to see things for myself."_

" _I'm glad Papa finally saw the light about Tom. Making him estate agent has been the best thing. I find him much easier to work with than Papa's sometimes fanciful ideas."_

" _And Sybil leaving the house?" He knew Mary missed her sister's presence._

" _She's right to want to live in the agent's house. The renovations are coming along. They love their independence."_

" _Good. We've been invited to tea today by the way. Tom asked after breakfast."_

" _Lovely."_

 _And indeed it was. The children at a smaller table were having their tea and cakes. Mr. Pookie had his own chair next to Elinor. The adults at a larger one near an alcove in the freshly painted and furnished morning room of the estate agent's house._

 _Sybil felt more at ease in her own home. "Helen is relishing her new role as well."_

" _I'll inform Anna. She'll be pleased." Mary had recommended Anna's sister to Sybil as a lady's maid. The Smith's mother had died and Helen had no where to go when they gave up the lease on their flat. Anna had returned to work at Downton, distracted and worried. Mary then found out about her sister's unemployment because of her chronic illness. She suggested that Helen come to work at Downton as Sybil's lady's maid if her sister agreed. She had, and Helen fit right into the household._

 _And now she was housekeeper as well. Sybil being head nurse at Downton Hall left her little time to manage the estate agent's house, and so Helen took over that job._

" _Sybbie spends so much of her day at the house with Elinor and George, it worked out we didn't need to hire anyone else."_

" _They love being together," Mary agreed. "And with Nurse Todd asking to be let go next summer to take up a job with York Infirmary, we've decided to split the duties between Florence and the governess."_

 _Sybil turned to see Tom and Matthew deep in conversation about roof renovations. "Your life will be a little easier now that Matthew's sight has returned."_

" _We'll take it a day at a time," Mary said. "But it's wonderful all the same. He took me upstairs to sit with Sebastian earlier. He had the silliest grin for an entire hour as he watched the baby try to catch the rattle he shook above his little fingers."_

 _Mary looked over at her husband. As if he sensed her gaze, he met her eyes and smiled._

 _How could such a little gesture mean the entire world?_

XX

 **April 1924**

The green hulled toy yacht caught the breeze and sailed away from the edge of the round pond at Kensington Gardens.

Elinor clapped.

"Come this way, Elinor." Mary took her hand and walked towards the taxi. "We've an appointment at the House of Eliott." Mary wanted her daughter to have a new dress for the Chelsea Flower Show in a few weeks. "I don't want to be late."

"I want to watch the boats…" Elinor pouted.

"Yacht!" Her older brother George corrected, giving his sister an aggrieved side eye.

"George, I wouldn't be so engrossed correcting your sister when you've forgotten to hold onto the cord tight enough." Matthew observed his five-year as he watched his toy sailboat float across the water. Rather than use the more sophisticated racing Braine or vane gear systems that allowed free sailing and tacking, the child's version was simpler, with fixed sails and a long rope to make sure that it could be easily retrieved if it sailed out of reach across the pond. The boat had been built at Downton Hall by one of the partially blinded ex-soldiers who was a master craftsman. The sails sewn together by other residents. They hoped to sell them as hand made toys at local fairs. Matthew bought one for George for his birthday and had promised that the next time they were in London, they'd sail it at Hyde Park.

George gasped and scrambled back towards his father as Matthew reached down and grabbed the rope before the yacht sailed too far away.

His sister giggled and then skipped much more merrily towards the taxi. "Mummy may Sybbie come with us?"

Tom and his daughter were bent down watching George's pond yacht sail across the water. She turned as her cousin mentioned her name. "May I go with Elinor Daddy, please?"

After Mary nodded agreement, Tom said, "Of course you may darling."

The two little girls were inseparable. It made not having another sibling for four years easier for the child.

Before Mary got too far away, Matthew called out "When are Bertie and Jack arriving?"

"On the 2:00 train. I told them we'd be having lunch with Ian and Irene at St. Dunstan's and meet them after at St. Regent's station so we can all go to the zoo."

Matthew nodded acknowledgement and waved good-bye. He turned his attention back to George to make sure he wasn't too close to the water's edge and then asked Tom, "And Sybil? Will she be able to go to the zoo?"

"Yes. She'll be finished with Dr. Loftis by then." Tom wanted to go with his wife to the woman recommended by Dr. Ryder as a specialist in obstetrics but Sybil had said she'd be fine and that Sybbie would have more fun with her cousins than a stuffy waiting room. At three months into a long expected second pregnancy, she was under close observation by both Dr. Clarkson and the two specialists in Harley Street.

"Good," Matthew said. "I hope this good weather holds. The children will be so disappointed if it rains."

The appointment with Dr. Loftis coincided with Matthew's last set of readings for BBC 2LO and so both couples traveled to London two days previous. They were all staying at Grantham House. Robert opened the House for the season, though the older Crawley's had returned to Downton after attending a ball at the palace.

Matthew had finished his radio broadcasts the day before and was now free for a month. He had finally finished his clerkship at Harvill and Carter after catching up with all his work as a result of regaining his sight. As a reward, the two partners had allowed Matthew a leave of absence to enjoy time with his family while his sight remained. Matthew was grateful but he knew it was not just out of the goodness of their hearts he was allowed the extra time. Being the heir to the Earl of Grantham certainly helped as the two men liked the curry the favour of the local gentry and aristocracy. And they liked showing charity towards the less advantaged by having a blind man in their chambers. But it was a good relationship overall and Matthew was pleased to move on into more independent work as a solicitor and not have his work scrutinized at every stage.

They spent about another half hour with George and the pond yacht and then they parted company. Tom to go back to Harley Street to fetch his wife and Matthew to take another taxi to Regents Park and St. Dunstan's.

After carefully furling the sails and stowing the yacht in the back of the taxi, Matthew stepped inside with his son and gave instructions to take them to the hostel for the blind. George fell asleep against his father's shoulder. Matthew kissed his head, and leaned back against the leather seat. It would be good to see Ian again. He had succeeded as Chairman of St. Dunstan's after Sir Arthur Pearson's tragic death in December 1921. The founder had slipped and drowned in the bathtub while alone in his own house, a terrifying prospect for anyone blind. At only 25, Fraser had taken on the responsibilities at St. Dunstan's with gusto. Matthew admired him more and more every time he visited. Right now, despite being wounded, blinded, and now director of a major charitable operation Fraser was running for parliament, truly using all his skills to advocate for the disadvantaged.

Matthew and George stepped out of the taxi. Mary and Elinor had already arrived and were taking a turn around the park with Irene Fraser. Mary had stopped by the hotel to fetch Nurse Todd to watch over the children and so, after waving to them, Matthew allowed George to run after his sister and join the women on the walk.

He had some business to discuss first with Fraser. Gwen Sanderling, managing director of Downton Hall ever since Tom Branson left to become Downton Abbey's estate agent, had given him a list of items that needed to be requisitioned from St. Dunstan's stores for use at the Hall. Her marriage to Trevor Sanderling in 1922 had meant the two had taken over all the management duties at the Hall. In his wildest dreams Matthew had not dared hope his desire to help his fellow veterans would be as successful as it has been over the past five years.

Lunch ended pleasantly. The children skipping ahead of their parents and guided by Nurse Todd they made their way towards the taxi that would take them to the Zoo.

Irene and Mary embraced and said good bye. Mary then helped Todd with the children into the waiting taxi.

Ian held out his hand. Matthew took it and they shook. "I was sad to hear about Dr. Macewan's death in March," Ian said. "What are you going to do now about your eye appointments."

"I will stay for the time being with his successors at Glasgow Royal Infirmary but I might seek out other options. Dr. Macewan was very honest with me about my condition. It will take years before anything like the kind of surgery I'd need would even be possible and the potential dangers even then would outweigh any thought of doing it. I've learned to live with my adenoma. The children will need close observation, however. I'll have to make inquiries as to the best neurologists for them."

The reality of that had long ago settled in the pit of Matthew's stomach. Alongside the guilt of potentially transmitting his condition to his children. He kept reminding himself of Joseph's wisdom when he confessed his fears to his friend years ago when George was a baby. Matthew had learned to find happiness in spite of his condition. So would his children if it came to that. Especially with his love and guidance.

Matthew stopped to put on his dark glasses. "I still need these as well. And a pair of reading spectacles can you believe."

Fraser laughed. "Your broadcasts have gone over topping with the residents. We can't wait for the new series in the summer."

After a last good-bye Matthew joined his family. "Are we ready for the Zoo?"

"Yes please!" Elinor and George said in unison.

Just around the northern edge of Regent's Park the zoo was an easy drive. The children enjoyed walking around and seeing so many animals they had never known existed. The okapi's were especially exotic and their coloring and striping fascinated. The aquarium was a bit stifling but kept their interest as well watching and following the fish as they swam around the tanks. Jack and George kept up a running commentary about each of the animals they saw.

Matthew couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the caged animals. Watching the keepers treat the gorillas like some kind of human pets and parading the elephants around like toys annoyed him. But the children didn't understand and they were greatly amused by the giant trunks and sounds the elephants made.

Maybe it was also feeling like the unwanted object of other's people's attention that made him feel so. Being blind one always felt out of place. An object of both pity and fascination.

The children were exhausted after about an hour and they took separate taxi's back to Grantham House. Tom and Sybil with their daughter and Bertie and the boys in one. Mary and Matthew sat on one side of their taxi and Elinor, asleep in Nurse Todd's lap, on the other side.

Matthew whispered, "I have an idea."

"hmmm…" Mary turned her head. She was more than a bit tired herself after the long day. She looked forward to a quiet evening. "What is it?"

"I think we should take advantage of Bertie and Edith's invitation to have the children visit Brancaster. Florence can travel with Sebastian and join them."

Mary was tempted. "And what would we do?"

"We could get away by ourselves. I've always wanted to see the Cornish coast. I've heard it's magnificent. We could find a cottage to let. I still have about a fortnight left of my leave of absence."

Mary hesitated. There was so much to do at Downton.

As if Matthew could read her mind he said, "Tom will have everything in hand." His eyes grew soft, coaxing her to agree. "Please… We can get a room for Anna at a nearby hotel. Maybe her sister could join her for a few days holiday."

She turned and knew she could deny him nothing. But was there something else though? Behind those alluring blue eyes? Did he know his time was growing short again? If so, she wouldn't ask. He'd tell her when he was ready. "I'd love to let a cottage. We could take long walks and picnic near the sea. I might even be able to ride as there are stables all over the Cornish coast."

Matthew said, "then it's settled as soon as we get back to Grantham House, I'll get on the telephone to an agent at Thomas Cook & Son." He leaned back against the seat. As much as he loved being surrounded by the children, he also relished the prospect of time alone with Mary. They had not been apart from the children since regaining his sight.

For the next week at least, he wanted Mary all to himself.

XX  
 _So there you are_ _I only meant to write one epilogue chapter for 1923-24 but here I've written two and will now write a third …they need to have time alone for… you know… all sorts of things…  
More to come. Thanks for loving this story as much as I do! Anyone catch the use of another favorite tv show of mine? :)_


	41. Chapter 41 Epilogue 3

_A bit M as they're on holiday :)_

 **May 1924**

Matthew monitored his children play in the garden of Crawley House. Elinor and George chased after three butterflies, waving their arms in imitation of the insect's wings. Florence, seated on a bench close by also kept an eye on the two older ones while Mary stood to put Sebastian down onto the grass, still lightly holding onto his fingertips as he toddled around on his chubby legs.

Mary looked over and, letting go of his right hand, encouraged their youngest to "wave to Daddy and Grandmama…"

Sebastian exuberantly splayed all his fingers, flapping his whole arm out in front of his body. "Dada!"

Matthew made a funny face and waved back.

Isobel watched her son watch his children.

Matthew's smile, crooked at the side of his mouth. His eyes, shaded by his hand against the glare of the sun.

"Do you want your dark glasses? I believe you left them on the desk in the house."

He shook his head. "No. I can't see them clearly when I wear the specs. The tint makes everything too dark especially when we are under so many trees."

"Very well." Isobel continued to regard him. He was relaxed yet observed with intent. Missing nothing, capturing everything within his mind's eye. But not so that anyone would notice. He didn't want the children to worry. Nor Mary.

But Isobel knew her son. She wondered if he was experiencing some reduction in his vision. But she'd wait for him to tell her.

"When is Richard returning?" Matthew asked, turning towards his mother. They were seated on latticed metal chairs on the upper level of the garden. "I'm glad you didn't go with him to Cavenham Park."

"I wanted to be here to see you off and say good-bye to the children. He'll only be a few days. Now that we've decided to settle here permanently, Dickie's organizing which of his personal items to be brought down."

Matthew had been very glad to hear that news. He knew his mother had tried to warm the chill between herself and the Grey children, but to no avail. They were avaricious and heartless and his new father in law had finally washed his hands of them. He would move to Crawley House and leave the Park in Larry and his wife's overly eager hands.

"Bertie and Edith are arriving this afternoon. And everything is finally organized for the morning."

It had taken a few more days to confirm the details of their trip to Cornwall with Thomas Cook and Sons so instead of leaving straight from London, Mary and Matthew had taken the train back to Downton with the children and were now planning to take up the rental cottage in Lamorna over the weekend.

"Elinor was a bit mopey about going to Brancaster until Auntie Edith told her on the telephone she could ride the new pony, Bluebell."

Mother and son shared a laugh. Elinor had become quite horse mad lately. She, rather than George for whom the hand carved gliding rocking horse in the nursery had first been purchased, rode the toy as if she was astride a real thoroughbred. Standing up from the leather saddle and pretending to see a fence in front of her which she had to jump over. Ever since they had watched Mary ride in the recent point to point, Elinor talked about nothing else but horses.

Mary was delighted. Upon their return from London she noticed more and more at how little George seemed interested in the family pastime. He could ride, no one in the Crawley family could get away without learning to handle a horse, but he wasn't enthusiastic. He'd finish his lesson and then run to the schoolroom to get _The Tale of Peter Rabbit_ or one of the William Brown books about the adventures of a young school boy.

"He's only five," Matthew had reminded Mary just the previous evening.

"I begged Papa to ride more by his age."

"He's very bright according to Miss Paige, already reading and improving his penmanship. He loves maths apparently. She's concerned about keeping up as a matter of fact."

"Not the same at all," she riposted playfully, loving to tease her husband. "Why would you want to have your head stuck in a book when you could be out in the fresh air."

Matthew, reading his beloved Dickens on the settee in their sitting room, arched an eyebrow and gave his wife an amused side eye. He recognized that George took after him in favouring academics over sports. But this was not the true Crawley way. "At least you can take comfort that he loves coming over to the Hall when the residents are playing cricket. Maybe when he's older he can play for the house against the village."

"I guess it will have to do…" sighing dramatically, slipping off his reading glasses and putting his book on the table to gather her husband's entire attention.

Matthew had obliged quite willingly.

So today, right before they were to leave, Elinor's abrupt change of attitude was very helpful. All the children were now looking forward to the visit to their aunt and uncle's house. And Matthew, though he didn't let on to his mother of course, could not wait to whisk Mary away to the seaside cottage where they could be alone. He was dead pleased with himself for finding the perfect location.

"Daddy!" Elinor ran up to her father.

"Hello princess." He reached his hands out to help her into his lap. She cuddled against his shoulder.

She's getting so big, Matthew thought. Just in the past year she'd grown into such a little lady. The mirror image of her mother.

"Come play with us…" Elinor jumped down and pulled on his arm. "George is chasing all the butterflies. You have to come help me." Her face was upturned, an adorable pout on her lips.

"We can't have that, can we," Matthew answered. He flashed his mother a smile. "I've been summoned. How can I say no?"

Isobel waved as father and daughter walked away hand in hand. This was the other reason she wanted to settle at Crawley House rather than Dickie's overstuffed mansion. For here all her loved ones lived close by.

XX

"Thank you, Anna," Mary said, removing her gloves and placing them on the night table in the spacious bedroom. "How are the rooms in the annex?"

When Matthew said he had rented a cottage, Mary worried it would be the size of Elinor's doll house. But Matthew, upon her probing on the train, admitted that the travel agent had booked them into the summer house of Edward Waring, the fifth Viscount Truro.

"Very comfortable, m'lady." Anna smiled and said, "Helen's already planning a morning walk along the beach."

Another benefit of this let was the separate lodge with bedrooms and kitchen where Anna and her sister Helen could stay and have their own privacy. A day cook would come to the manor house every morning and prepare breakfast and lunch and then return if the younger Crawley's wanted to eat dinner at home.

"I'm going down. We'll have tea whenever Mrs. Purdy is ready."

"Very good. I'll tell her after I finish the unpacking."

Mary, after another quick glance in the mirror, left to join her husband in the downstairs morning room.

Matthew was on the telephone. "Thank you, Edith, for letting us know that they're all behaving for you…." A pause, then he laughed. "George did bring all his favorite Beatrix Potter books. They're the perfect size for his case he kept insisting."

Matthew caught his wife's eye, putting his hand over the receiver. "Did you want to talk?" he mouthed.

Mary shook her head. "You've got it under control."

He went back to the conversation. "We'll meet you at Brancaster at the end of the week."

After saying good-bye, he put the receiver back in its holder. "All is well," he reported.

"Excellent." Mary walked towards him. "This house is lovely, Matthew. Quite perfect."

Matthew grinned. Just as he had hoped. "As soon as Lord Truro heard we were looking he told his agent to confirm with the travel agency. It seems your father and he had some kind of regimental connection. He doesn't usually let the house at this time of year, but he made an exception for us."

He paused then dropped the other bit of news sure to get Mary excited. "He also said that his neighbor Mr. Price has a stable full of thoroughbreds at your disposal."

"That's wonderful. Did you ask on my behalf?"

"I did," he said, giving his wife a crinkly smile. "I knew that was something you were looking forward to doing while we were here."

Mary bent down and kissed Matthew's cheek. "Thank you, darling. I can't wait to ride tomorrow morning." She pursed her lips mischievously. "Will you join me?"

He knew she'd ask that ever since he acknowledged that when he was twelve, he had learned to ride a horse after visiting a friend from Rugby at his family home in Hampshire. It had been mostly to spend time with Kathleen, Christopher's pretty sister outside her mother's prying eyes. Not that he admitted that part to Mary. It had been the glorious summer before the blindness came. At least it seemed so to him for many years.

But he was wrong.

Now was the best time of his life.

He shifted on the settee. "I'm terribly rusty. I'll hardly keep up."

"I'll go slow with you…" She kissed his cheek again, whispering in his ear. "And then you might get your reward…"

"hmmmm…" He struggled to speak as her heat took his breath away. "I can't wait."

She gave him an enigmatic smile and then walked over to the desk to rifle through some of the mail.

"I've looked through the stack. We've received several invitations already," Matthew said. "Some of the local gentry and nobility graciously inquiring whether the future earl and countess of Grantham would visit some evening during their stay. I guess it was inevitable it would get out."

She opened the last one in the stack. "This one's from the Price family you mentioned previously. A party in two night's time." Mary waved the etched card in Matthew's direction.

"Conrad Price?"

Mary glanced down. "No. Perdita Price. Their daughter I assume. It's in honour of some kind of exhibit a cousin has opened at the Newlyn Art Gallery."

"Shall we go?"

"Could be fun. I've heard these art parties can be very unorthodox."

Matthew arched an eyebrow. "Intriguing. I'll call and confirm when I inform Conrad of our intention to ride in the morning."

Mary put it on the mantle of the fireplace. "I'll go through the rest later." Mrs. Purdy, housekeeper and day cook, had entered the room with a three-tier tray and Anna with a platter of hot tea and cups.

They ate and had hoped to spend the end of their first day with a long walk but the fog rolled in and there was no visibility so it was an early bed.

"Up with the birds tomorrow," Mary reminded Matthew, nestling next to him under the covers.

"I don't have any kit…" Matthew started to say.

"Trying to get out of it again, eh? You won't get off the hook that easily." Mary snickered lightly. "I'm sure the Price's can find you suitable boots, breeches, and jacket. They run a livery stable so they'll be stocked with all the necessary accoutrements."

Matthew grunted and, deciding to change the subject, snuggled closer and began to nuzzle her neck.

All else was forgotten.

XX

"There…" Mary straightened his tie. "Though why you give Lang a week's holiday whenever we go away is most peculiar."

They emerged from the lower dressing chambers at the Price house located across the yard from the stables.

"He never takes leave unless I make him," Matthew said. "And he'd never do it when we're in residence at Downton. Besides as you predicted Conrad was well equipped for those wanting a day's outing. His man Brody helped me select the proper size."

Mary had never seen her husband in riding clothes. There was something oddly familiar about it that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"The fit feels a lot like my service uniform. Makes you stand very straight." He squared his shoulders.

Mary stopped suddenly, the penny finally dropping. "That's it, darling. You look just as splendid as you did in the red dress ..er… uniform thingy at our wedding."

Matthew chuckled. "I think you're trying to say red mess kit. The semi-formal dress uniform used on white tie occasions. At least I knew where I stood in that uniform. I feel quite the fraud in this get up."

"Nonsense," she tsked. "Every Crawley can ride. Even those than don't know it. You'll see."

He looked over at his wife out of the corner of his eye. "Musn't let the side down then…" His voice rose in affected plumminess, pulling on the leather gloves in anticipation of the ride ahead. "Family honour and all that."

"You're impossible." Mary gave his jacket arm a brisk tap with her riding crop.

The corner of his mouth upticked in a cheeky smirk. "You love me anyway though don't you."

"Madly." Mary met his eyes with a frankness that made Matthew's throat tightened. He knew his wife played her cards very close and seldom showed any emotion in public. Doing so now, knowing that he could see it and appreciate it, meant the world to him.

Matthew ducked under her riding hat and kissed her. "Would you care to go riding m'lady?"

He formally reached out to take her arm.

"Absolutely, kind sir." Mary entwined her arms inside her husband's.

When they finally got out onto the grassy hillocks around Lamorna, Mary was astride a strong Andalusian who had taken her fancy immediately. Upon asking Conrad for a good choice for a beginner, a laidback but bright-eyed bay Arabian was Matthew's mount.

It was gorgeous day, the previous day's dense fog giving away to glorious sunshine.

"Conrad said if we follow this trail we'll come to the beach where there's a path above the cliff." Mary easily reined in Balios, named for one of the horses gifted to Perseus which was yet another reason why she had chosen this particular animal.

Matthew clicked his stirrups to encourage his horse to sidle up to Balios. Comet, named for a siting on the date of his birth, was a gentle soul and followed his tentative demands. He remembered from his long ago lessons it was necessary to show who was in control and he did feel more comfortable than he first anticipated, so that combined with the horse's easy-going nature Comet did as bid.

He pulled down on the brim of his cap. The glare hurt his eyes but he didn't want to wear his dark glasses. He wanted to take everything in.

"Perhaps later we'll get that walk in along the shore. The cove is dangerous at high tide but we can inquire when that's to occur. There's also the Merry Maidens, a circle of ancient stones that's been said to be the punishment of nineteen maidens who dared to dance on a Sunday."

"How do you know so much?" Mary continued to lead the way towards the beach path. The stunning rugged Cornish coastline came into view. Stony outcroppings, treacherously large rocks below leading out to Mount's Bay where the breakers crashed to shore and the crest of the waves winked in the bright sunshine.

"Edward's very enthusiastic about the place. When I was finalizing the details with him, he made sure I knew about all the spots we should take in."

They took it easy along the path, being careful not to allow the horses to stumble on the pebbles. After making it down the trail and arriving at a gate at the back of the Price estate, Matthew needed a rest. His thighs burned from the exertion. He dismounted and led Comet over to a low-lying stone wall. He opened the gate to let Mary in then led his own horse.

"I'll sit here while you continue. I know you yearn to gallop and I'm holding you back." He sat down on the wall.

Mary clicked her tongue and tugged slightly on the reins to maneuver Balios over to Matthew. She was admittedly itching to test the horse's limits. "Are you sure, darling?"

"I might just take a nap," he jested getting more comfortable by leaning against an outcropping. "Comet seems happy." Nearby the horse nibbled on a carrot Matthew had brought along in his pocket to win over the horse's affection.

"So, you don't intend to watch then?" She sounded dubious.

He shrugged. "Should I?" He lifted up a corner of his cap and winked.

"No reason at all…" Mary smiled deliciously.

Satisfied that she had her husband's undivided attention, she maneuvered the Andalusian to back up and, having more room to run, pressed her knees against the horse's barrel and they were off, first at a slow canter and then as Balios gained speed Mary expertly leaned forward, raising her body in the saddle she let all her weight sink into her heels in the stirrups while keeping herself centered and balanced.

They sprinted easily as one around the field. The bond she developed with a horse she had just met two hours previous both astonished and confounded Matthew. He was, of course, watching. She was so assured, so confident in the saddle. It was where his true Mary was her truest self.

The sun dazzled, but shaded under a large Cornish oak so the glare didn't interrupt his field of vision, Matthew kept his eyes keenly on Mary's form. Her lithe elegance. Her slim silhouette.

Well who could blame him really?

XX

"I could use a long, hot bath." Matthew said as he approached the door to his dressing chamber. "I think I'll go run one while Anna attends to you."

He was literally sore all over his body. He'd never admit it to Mary, but he had underestimated how much strength it took to ride. He thought his fencing efforts would allow him to keep up, and he did with the exception of the gallop, but now he was paying the price.

"You rode really well today darling." Mary reached out and stroked his arm.

"I suspect I'll be paying for it the rest of our stay." He only half-kidded, then far more seriously, "You were a beautiful sight to behold. This day will stay in my memory forever."

Mary nudged back a loose lock of hair over his forehead. "I'm glad. I had ever such a good time."

He kissed her cheek. "Now to wash off all this sweat." Opening the door, he stepped through.

Mary rang the bell for Anna and began to strip off her own grimy riding outfit. A thought occurred and a sly smile crept over her face.

Anna opened the door.

"Anna…" Mary turned. "Why don't you and Helen take the next few hours off. It's such a gorgeous day. Why don't you walk into town and have a nice long afternoon tea?"

"M'lady?" Anna was at first confused, and then she heard running water from the next room. Understanding the desire for privacy, she then answered, "Thank you. Helen's bronchitis has subsided in the fresh air. A walk will do her the world of good."

Mary knew her lady's maid would comprehend. "Take all the time you want."

Once Anna was gone again, Mary quickly slipped off the rest of her clothes and put on a Chinese print robe. She walked into her husband's dressing room, and knocked lightly on the inner bathroom door.

She heard a splash and then a "come in."

Opening the door, she strolled inside. "I thought I'd come join you…"

Matthew turned to see his wife slide off her robe, letting it fall to the floor.

She slipped an elegantly pointed foot into his bath. "Is it hot?"

"…it is now…" Matthew smirked and lifted his arms to catch her as she dropped into the water. She felt his strong grip gently take her down beside him and gave her self over all the sensations of love making. They kissed. Their lips hungry. Their tongues grabbing and pulling. Matthew's hands wandered down to cup each breast, lingering over each of her nipples until peaked and erect. Then her slender torso down to her buttocks, rounded and taut from the long ride of the day.

She took him as she her horse, astride and with full vigor. She drove his rigid shaft into her and took him all inside, shaking as waves of scorching heat sent her senses reeling.

Matthew lay gasping in her wake. He could hardly breathe; his body completely exhausted all over again but this time in a flood of intense sexual awareness.

They lay in the tub, quiet for a long time. Each using the linen cloth to wash the other. Fully aware of the other's presence. He watched. He noticed everything. He drank in her beauty.

"Matthew…" Mary broke the silence when Matthew had stepped out, and reaching with his hand, helped his wife keep her balance as she lifted a foot onto the rug beside the porcelain tub.

"What is it darling?"

He gave her a large towel which she wrapped around her body. She sat down next to him on the bench.

"I know we've not spoken of when, or indeed if, you might go blind again…." She bit the side of her mouth, concerned perhaps she shouldn't bring this up. But it had been long on her mind.

"Yes?" Matthew's brow creased. He took her hand in encouragement of whatever she had to say.

"I want to be there with you when it happens if at all possible. The last time you were all alone because of the circumstances…"

Matthew gripped her hand tightly. The birth of their dear little boy George being that reason. He didn't often think about that night anymore. The darkness. The anger he felt at life seeming to betray him. "I promise I won't descend into a morbid funk again."

"I know," Mary showed her full support. "I still want to be with you. We shall do all things together."

"Together always."

They kissed.

Mary ran a finger delicately down his cheek. "How are your eyes now? Really. Not what you tell everyone else."

Matthew's mouth pursed. "Well…" He paused again and then just told her the truth. "The peripheral vision is getting worse. It's about half what it was last year. I'm not sure when it will happen, of course, but it's…" He swallowed and coughed. "…it's only a matter of time now."

Mary lifted herself off the bench and nodded. "Then we need to make the best of the time we have. Let's get dressed and take that walk along the beach."

"I'd love nothing more."

She bent down and kissed him again. "Shan't be a tick…" and she sashayed out the door, giving him one more lingering look at her naked body as she dropped the towel and walked through into their bedroom.

XX

Matthew had to admit to himself at being a tad disappointed in the party. It was far tamer than he had come to expect from a bohemian art colony.

On their walk along the beach the previous evening they had spotted a painter posing a subject on an outcropping of rocks. Nothing particularly special. Except that the subject was completely nude and the artist was a woman.

 _En plein air_ indeed.

Mary had been first along the cliffside to spot them. She turned towards him startled, then started to giggle helplessly into her husband's shoulder.

Matthew glanced over her head and saw the two women. His cheeks blushed a bright pinkish red which only made Mary laugh even harder when she saw his face.

"Oh darling…" she had said between giggles, "You were the one wanting to see Cornwall."

He then started to chortle himself and the two of them fell into each other, laughing.

So now, taking in the room where Perdita Price was showing off her cousin's rather tame landscapes, he shrugged to himself guessing it was too much to expect that the landed gentry would dare to show off the ruder examples of the avant-garde community.

Mary, who had been talking to the young artist whose work was on display, walked over to her husband. "He's very informative that young man."

"About what?"

"Laura Knight," she said. "That's the artist from yesterday. She's rather notorious for her outdoor painting but the younger set admire her fiercely. She's down on holiday. She used to live here before but she and her husband moved to London after the war. There was some kind of scandalous tragedy amongst the artists but no one wants to talk about it."

"I see…" He nodded. "Who's the husband? Another artist?"

"Yes. Harold Knight. He does more traditional commissioned portraiture."

Matthew filed away that information in his head for later. Robert had mentioned wanting a family portrait of the younger Crawleys.

They mingled a bit longer and then took themselves back along the gravel path to Lord Truro's residence.

The rest of their stay in Cornwall was as peaceful and quiet as each had hoped. Mary had gone riding most mornings, then joined Matthew for walks or picnics along the shore. They had declined the rest of the invitations from other local elites to spend the evenings quietly alone.

Absorbed in each other's love. It being enough before returning home and the exuberant reunion with the children.

XX

 _Hope you enjoyed reading. Thank you so much._


	42. Chapter 42: Epilogue 4

**April 1926**

Matthew maneuvered the razor downward around the curvature of his jawline, tilting his head and drawing the skin tight to get a close shave. He gave it a couple of clean strokes and then reached down to dip the blade in the hot water and started on the other side.

Lang would shave him, but he preferred to do it himself. It was one of the principles taught at St. Dunstan's to do as much as you possibly can on your own. And Matthew, despite being heir to vast estate and title with people at his beck and call, followed that same code in his daily life. His recurrent blindness did not make him incapable of taking care of his daily ablutions. Lang kept the blade honed and sharp with a whetstone and finished it with polishing and edging with a daily strop. Matthew did know how to use the whetstone and the strop, but Lang did like taking care of those things. As Mary reminded him, it was the valet's job after all.

The razor was always kept in a calf leathered case beside the bathroom sink ready for Matthew's use. Most mornings he used one of the double edged auto strop razors that he first used in the war as it was easier for him and therefore more convenient when he was on his way out the door to the law offices in Ripon.

This morning though, it being Saturday, he had the time to use the straight razor and get a better shave.

And he had an audience. He could hear his son wriggling on the bench beside the sink as hee strained to see his father's face in the mirror.

George had all sorts of queries about his Daddy's technique.

"Why do you put a hot towel to your face? How do you hold the blade? If you cut your fingers will blood gush out all over? Can I hold it? When will I start shaving?"

Matthew patiently answered the stream of questions. "You put a hot towel to your face to soften the beard bristles." He then demonstrated holding the blade out from his face showing how he rested three fingers on the back of the blade and his pinkie down below the tang, or lever, and his thumb behind.

He stopped shaving long enough to glance in the direction of where he knew his son sat. "If you work very carefully a good shave will never result in bodily injury." He winked and smiled cheekily. "No matter how much your recent interest in the macabre wants it to be."

George giggled. Ever since his father read him Charles Dicken's short story "The Signal Man" at Christmas past he wanted to hear and read all the spooky stories he could find. Right now, he was attempting Margaret Oliphant's "The Open Door" full of abandoned ruins and eerie cries in the night. He needed some help with the words. He'd spell it out and Matthew would help him with the pronunciation. Mary wasn't at all sure this was the type of story a little seven-year-old should be reading late in the evening, but George begged and begged to continue. He had solemnly promised he wouldn't have nightmares, his face a picture of angelic purity.

Mary had relented. What else could she do? Her husband was as interested as George in the stories and they stayed up past his bedtime either listening to his son narrate or he pulled out one of the stories that had been translated into Braille and read it to him.

Elinor couldn't have been less interested and Sebastian was still too young to participate. So, it was just Matthew and George. The two had become virtually inseparable of late with George, after his daily lessons in the schoolroom were over, being relied on to be pacing back and forth on the gravel path between the house and Downton Hall waiting for Matthew to return from work.

He wanted to be with him always.

As he was now, watching his father's shaving routine. Matthew heard George's shoes kicked against the side of the mahogany as his feet didn't quite reach the tiled floor.

Matthew, to finish his son's questions, replied in the negative about George's query on holding the razor. "Too dangerous. You'll have to wait until quite a few years I'm afraid before you need to shave."

George's grunt indicated that he was not all that satisfied with these answers.

Matthew reached out his hand towards his son. George, knowing what the gesture meant, leaned his head over so that his father could feel for his skull.

Matthew then ruffled his son's hair. "Sorry my lad but that's the truth of the matter. You know I always tell you the truth."

George sat back, mollified.

Matthew finished shaving his neckline and then started to cautiously wash and wipe down the blade before closing it back on the hinge, thinking about what he had to do that day. Meet with Robert about roof repairs. Isobel had said something about tea at Crawley House. Nothing of great importance. Mary was away in Scotland, visiting Duneagle with her mother and grandmother, preparing for Rose's wedding in the summer.

George then said, "Daddy, my eye can't seem to wake up today. No matter how much I blink, it won't wake up."

Matthew's breath lurched. He fumbled with the razor, finding it difficult to close the blade. He put it aside as his hands trembled. He gripped the side of the porcelain sink to pull himself together. It wouldn't do to go to pieces in front of George. Instead he leaned down and felt out for the smooth wood of the bench and sat next to George.

"Which eye is this?" Matthew's voice was far steadier than he actually felt.

"My left." George closed both eyes shut and then opened them again. "If I look just out of it alone, I can actually see a bit from the corner near my nose." He tried to close just one eye but, not having learned to wink, ended up squeezing them both. "Mummy has said I mustn't rub my eyes so hard when they itch. Did I do this?"

"No," Matthew quickly reassured. "You didn't do anything."

All his plans for the day changed in that instant. He would have to take George to London and the specialist that Matthew had been using since the death of Dr. Macewan in 1924.

"Do you remember Dr. Brainard from our visit last fall to London?"

"The man with all the funny machines?"

"Yes."

George had been fascinated by the phoropter, ophthalmoscope, and all the leather cases of lenses and fittings at the eye doctor's office.

"Would you mind him taking a look at your eye? We could go on the afternoon train. Then maybe go see Joseph and Sam."

George considered Matthew's friends as his uncles, as much as Tom and Bertie. It might mitigate any fear the child might have to end the day with a dinner at the Army and Navy Club. George loved all the attention he got from the concierges and waiters.

Matthew had taken George to London on his own on a few occasions. But this time, he felt he would need help.

"We can take Grandmama and make it a family day out."

"May we go to the zoo?"

Matthew hesitated. "I'm not sure. We'll have to see if we have the time."

George readily agreed and the two stood up. Matthew, still holding the shaving towel, wiped the remaining lather off his neck and then put it in the sink. He felt for his cane.

"Here it is Daddy." George put the stick in his father's hand.

"Thank you, little chap."

They left the bathroom, with George opening the door for his father.

"Lang?"

"Here sir."

"Would you walk with Master George back to his room and tell Fiona to start to pack an overnight bag. We've decided to take a trip to London."

"Very good." Lang surreptitiously checked Matthew's face and neck to make sure the future earl did not have any nicks or patches of beard left untended. As much as Mr. Crawley wanted to do all his own ablutions, it was his job to make sure his gentleman looked his best.

"Do I pass parade Lang?"

"All in order, sir."

The two men smiled. It had become something of a private joke between the two ex-servicemen. Matthew knew his valet gave him the twice over before allowing him to leave the dressing room. He appreciated Lang's attention to detail, and his discretion.

"I've laid out your suit on the stand sir."

"Thank you. I'll change after making a few telephone calls."

"Come along, Master George."

Only after he heard the click of the door as Lang closed it behind him to take George down the hallway did Matthew drop into the nearest chair, resting his head in his shaking hands.

His mind flew back twenty-two years when he was thirteen and he first went blind. The darkness came after days of agonizing headaches. It was total blindness. No sight at all as the adenoma settled between the optic chiasm thus blinding both eyes as it pressed down on the merge point of the optic nerves.

George had not complained at all about headaches in the previous days. Nor had he evinced any other symptom like double vision or blurriness. But he was young. Maybe he just didn't say.

The doctor would tell him soon enough.

Still trying to stop the trembling in his fingers, he stood up and, gripping his cane, made his way through the double doors to the sitting room.

He had to tell Mary. She couldn't meet him soon enough to accompany them to the ophthalmologist, but could be home when they returned tomorrow.

The subject of the potentiality of the tumour passing onto the children had been spoken of between them of course. No one in authority knew enough to tell them definitively yes or no, so they had tried to prepare for either occurrence.

Matthew's heart fell into the pit of his stomach in having to break this news to his wife. Mary was quite the storm braver, he well knew. She had come through Matthew's recurrent blindness and sight with a resiliency that made his love for her ever stronger.

But having it actually happen to George, and much sooner than his own, was a blow.

He took up the handle and clicked to get Carson. Asking to be connected to Mary at Duneagle, he waited for the connection and then asked for Lady Mary to be put on the line.

"Hello?"

"Darling, it's Matthew."

"Oh… " Mary was instantly on guard. She knew Matthew rarely called at this time of the morning. "Is something wrong?"

There was a hard pause. Then, in a voice Mary hardly recognized, Matthew said, "I'm going to be taking George to London today to see Dr. Brainard. It... it seems he woke up unable to see out of his left eye. I …"

Mary heard her husband cough and then give an almost unbearable heaving grunt. She knew he had started to choke up then quickly tried to collect himself. She was doing much the same. They knew this would be a possibility. But George was still so very young.

She desperately wanted to be with them. The trip to Scotland had been mostly to calm the ever-excitable Rose over her upcoming nuptials by finalizing all the details about her wedding gown before it went to the London dressmaker. Cora had gone up alone originally but needed reinforcements. Rose's mother was no help, Cora had said, and seemed to only agitate the girl more, so Violet and Mary made the trip a day or two earlier. They were all to come back to Downton before Cora and Rose would go on to London with the particulars.

"Dearest I wish I was there. I will be on the first train this afternoon to Downton. When do you think you'll be back?"

"I know, darling. Mother's will come along to help so we'll be fine. Ummm…." Matthew did some calculations. "I'm not sure how soon we'll get an appointment but it will be later in the afternoon. I promised him dinner at the Army Navy Club with Sam and Joseph which always cheers him up and then we'll stay overnight at the Savoy. We'll probably be on the mid-morning train tomorrow."

"I'll be at the station to meet you."

"Thank you, love. I must make the appointment with Brainard and confirm with Mother when we should pick her up at Crawley House. I will call later tonight, shall I? With the doctor's examination report."

"Yes, please do. I want to know all. Give Georgie all my love and kisses."

"I will darling. I will. Talk with you later."

He fumbled putting the receiver in its cradle. "Damn…" He got emotions back under control and lifted the handle this time waiting for the local exchange to come on the line. Having to do so much of his work at home he had a direct line installed so that he wouldn't have to connect through the house line all the time.

"Hello. I would like to be connected to Dr. Roger Brainard, ophthalmologist on Harley Street, London."

"Very good, sir. I'll ring when he's on the line."

Matthew waiting for the signal, made the appointment. He then asked the operator this time for the Savoy. He tended to stay at the same places while in London and most of the concierges and desk staff at the Savoy knew him and his needs and always reserved an easy to access room. He made two reservations as his mother was also traveling with them.

Then he made the call to Isobel. She was her usual level headed self and said she'd be ready within the hour to accompany them to London.

Matthew felt drained after completing all those tasks. He took a few moments to recover and then got on with dressing. He poked his head into the playroom to say good morning to Sebastian and Elinor, saying to his almost six-year-old daughter merely that he was taking George to London and that they'd be back before she knew it.

If Elinor sensed any tension in her father she didn't say. She was always remarkably composed, Matthew thought. And in this case, he was glad of it. They'd inform her when Mary was home and they could do so as a family.

Lang had his Gladstone bag already packed and was carrying it downstairs by the time he had fetched George from his room. Matthew told Carson to inform his lordship of their whereabouts upon Robert's return from his morning ride and that he'd explain everything upon their homecoming in the morning.

Hodgkins drove them in the Rolls over to Crawley House to pick up Isobel and then they all set out for the train station.

George had barely said a word since leaving the bathroom. Matthew didn't make him talk but kissed his head and kept his arm around his son's shoulder all the way to Marylebone station.

XX

Mary sank down on the window seat in the library at Duneagle, her mind awhirl, her body a dead weight.

She began to weep.

Her sweet baby George. How she longed to hold and comfort him. Giving a sigh, she pulled herself together, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief and went to find her mother and granny. They were having breakfast downstairs with Rose.

"Who was that on the line?" Cora asked upon Mary's entrance.

"Matthew. He…" She hesitated but decided she might as well inform everyone. They'd know soon enough. "He's taking George to the eye doctor. It seems he woke up unable to see out of one of his eyes."

She met her mother's doleful gaze. Cora swiftly rose from her seat and gave her daughter a hug.

Rose's lip started to quiver. "Does that mean he'll …." She swallowed, unable to finish.

"We'll have to see what Dr. Brainard says." Mary said, not needing Rose to complete the thought that was on everyone's mind. "I'm going back to Downton by the afternoon train so I'll be there when they get back."

"We all should go," Violet remarked. "I don't want to be up here in the hinterlands and kept in the dark...erm... so to speak." She glanced over at Mary.

Her granddaughter reassured, "It's fine Granny. We all say things like that. You can stay. I wouldn't want to disrupt your visit."

"Nonsense," Rose interjected. "I've been selfish about needing all this help. Now I will return the favour."

Mary wasn't sure that was a good idea. Too many people barreling down on George might make him that more anxious.

"That's a lovely idea Rose. But I think it best that I go alone at first and then maybe later you can visit on your way to London like we first intended."

Violet had to agree with Mary's plan. It was her family and she would guide them in the best way to deal with the situation. "We'll stay a few more days."

Cora assented. "You'll give them our love."

Rose bit her lower lip. But she abided by her elders' decision. "Do yes… give Matthew and George all my kisses and hugs."

Mary, no longer hungry, went upstairs to tell Anna to start packing.

The afternoon dragged on. Finally, in the late hours of the evening Matthew called back.

"Mother is putting George down in our suite. He's tired out after the long day."

He then got straight to the point knowing Mary was on pins and needles.

"Brainard was very careful with George. He didn't want to agitate him but did need to give him a thorough examination. It seems that the adenoma has settled to the left of his optic nerve for the time being." Matthew sighed. "I suppose the good news would be that the way it's sloped he will be able to see out of his right eye without obstruction. The ophthalmologist did warn that he might be subject to dizzy spells and have to relearn his center of balance."

Mary took a moment to absorb all that information.

Matthew hated the pause. It broke his heart. "I'm so sorry my darling. We…" He welled up. "I…"

"No please don't say that Matthew. I don't want you blaming yourself. It's too much for you to bear if you do that."

The distance between them became chasmic.

Matthew pushed the subject away from his selfish morosity. "George's been such a brave boy. You'd be ever so proud of him."

"He's our little prince."

Mary's use of their private nickname for George did Matthew in. Suddenly exhausted from the day's events he needed to get some sleep. "I think I must turn in. We'll be on the 9:40 from Covent Garden in the morning."

"Good night darling."

Mary hung up the receiver. Putting two fingers to the bridge of her nose, she frowned. Matthew was inclined to put the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had fretted about the children inheriting his disorder ever since they married.

And now it's happened.

There was no getting around it. They'd have to be an even stronger team now. For George. For all the children. Including the one he didn't know about. Mary, while in Scotland, had confirmed she was two months into a fourth pregnancy with a local doctor. It wasn't necessarily the best timing given George's diagnosis.

But exponentially adding to the love in the household was precious. And something Matthew would wholeheartedly embrace.

She couldn't wait to tell him.

XX

Matthew cautiously exited the train after it pulled into Downton station, putting his cane down each step and moving across the gap to the platform. His mother followed behind holding George's hand. George had been quite stoic throughout the examination at the ophthalmologist but quiet throughout the dinner at his club and the train journey. He had sat in between Matthew and Isobel on the trip back in silence.

It was most unlike his son, Matthew fretted. Usually George talked an endless stream about what they had done, what he saw out the window on the train, and what they would do when they got back home.

So Matthew thought he'd be the same when they met Mary at the platform. But as soon as he saw her, George slipped out of Isobel's grasp and straight into her open arms.

"Mummy Mummy Mummy!" He squeezed her tightly, burying his face in her neck.

Matthew made a move forward but felt his mother's hand on his shoulder.

"I need to help George…"

"No. Give him over to Mary." Isobel realized of course that Matthew didn't know how many time George had looked to his father throughout the trip, copying his forbearance and patience. "He needs the kind of love only a mother can give right now."

Matthew's shoulders slumped, but he understood.

He and his mother followed behind Mary who held onto George all the way to the Rolls Royce that would take them back to Downton.

The family had sat down to lunch in the downstairs dining room.

Matthew was relieved to learn upon returning home that Mary had already informed her father and sisters about George's condition. She had also sat down with Elinor the previous evening to tell her about George's diagnosis. Their daughter listened very quietly and then had said, "I will walk only on his right side so he can see me."

"I think that's a very good idea indeed." Mary gave her daughter a warm embrace and she tucked the covers up and had kissed her good night.

Elinor was currently upstairs. Upon entering Downton George had retreated up to the schoolroom, saying he was eager to get on with his lessons. He'd join his sister and cousin for the midday meal in the upstairs playroom. Sybil had brought Sybbie over from the estate agent's house where they now lived with Tom to have lunch upstairs with Elinor in the playroom. The baby, Neve Aileen, was asleep in the nursery in the care of the nanny Sybil had recently hired. Though she had been another hard birth, Sybil and the baby were thriving.

At lunch with Robert, Sybil, Isobel, and Mary Matthew leaned over to his wife and asked, "Did Elinor inquire about herself? About whether she'd experience it as well?"

"Not to me, no. But she might when you see her."

Matthew's lips pursed in thought. What would he tell her if she asked? She was a very composed child, not given to fits of temper or petulance. But she was only five years old.

He didn't have long to wait as putting the children to bed that night, he had first visited the nursery to see Sebastian. Then Elinor asked him to linger in her bedroom.

Matthew reached out, carefully lifting himself down onto the side of her bed.

Elinor reached out and took her father's hand.

"Mummy told me George can only see out of one eye now."

Her voice sounded so plaintive it once again threatened to break Matthew's resolve.

"Is he going to be the same as your eyes?"

Matthew knew he had to tread carefully. "Right now, it's just as it is. He will be able to see and play much the same as before. He might be more likely to fall as he doesn't have as much ability to look around or perceive where he's going. I know you told Mummy already that you would help him. That's very good of you."

"I will try… even when he takes over all the floor of they playroom with his soldier men and I don't have any room for my horses."

Matthew had to smile. Children do have to be children.

"Will I get it?"

The inevitable question. Matthew squeezed her hand. "I don't have an answer to that. I wish I did. But for right now you needn't worry. You are absolutely perfect."

He leaned over, and feeling for her shoulder he knelt down and kissed her head.

"Good night Daddy."

"Good night, sweetheart."

He felt for his cane and walked across the room to the door. He closed it behind him and walked down the passage the correct number of steps until he felt for the door handle to George's room.

Mary was saying her goodnights to her son. George had confided in his mother that he hoped he was as brave as his father wanted him to be on his trip to London.

Mary had said of course he was. "Daddy was very proud of you."

At at moment Matthew rapped lightly and walked in. "How's my little man tonight?" To his ears it sounded false, but it was just what George needed. He wanted everything back to normal.

"Miss Paige said I was coming along quite nicely with my arithmetic. But my fractions need work."

"Tricky things indeed," Matthew reached the edge of the bed. He hesitated to ask, but he said "what chapter do you want to read tonight? Shall we finish "The Open Door?"

Dr. Brainard had said it was fine for George to read, indeed to keep to as much of a routine as possible would be good for the child.

He heard George reach for the book on his nightstand. "I think we can finish it. There's only a few more pages."

Mary said, "I'll leave you two to it then. It's far too scary for me."

Matthew heard his wife's lightness of tone. He admired it tremendously.

"George and I will tough it out, won't we son?"

"We need to find out what happens to Roland in the ruins of the mansion." George had already begun to read out loud.

Matthew felt his wife's arm brush past him, squeezing his shoulder as she left the room.

Once George's eyes began to close and his voice slurred with sleep, Matthew had him close the book and kissed him good night.

He walked once again down the passage to the bedroom he shared with Mary.

She was at her nightstand, finishing her ablutions.

He slipped into the chair beside her table.

"He's asleep."

"Good."

"Do you think the worst is over?"

Matthew shrugged. "I don't know. I guess we just take it day by day."

Mary reached out to take his hand. "I do have some very good news."

Tired as he may be, Matthew perked up to hear that. "What is it?"

"I went to see a doctor while in Scotland to confirm that I'm two months pregnant."

Matthew blinked rapidly. "Darling…" He kept the dark thoughts at bay in the corner of his mind. They'd get through everything, he told himself. Their family was strong. "That's wonderful."

Mary moved over so he could take her in his lap. She rested her head against his shoulder. His arms slipped around her waist.

They felt each other's love and took strength from it.

All was well.

XX

And then Matthew went out to visit Downton Hall a few days later. He meant to only be about an hour and so instead of ringing for the car to pick him up, he tried to walk in the misty rain back down the gravel trail between the Hall and the house.

And his foot slipped on the wet stone, his cane fell to one side and his entire body twisted down hard onto the gravel walkway.

He felt such a pain in his ankle as he tried to right himself, he fell down again.

It was several minutes before anyone at the Hall noticed him trying to crawl back on all fours towards the entrance.

He had certainly twisted or fractured his ankle as he could bear no weight upon it.

Cursing to high heaven, Matthew accepted help from several of the orderlies at the Hall.

XX

 _I love George so much… but things happen and you learn to live with it. The Crawleys are strong. Even if Matthew is going to be really grouchy for the next several weeks.  
I just can't stop writing this story… lol. Another epilogue to come…. _


	43. Chapter 43: Epilogue 5

XX

 **June 1926**

Carson escorted Tom inside the house. "Mr. Crawley is upstairs in his dressing room, sir."

Tom started up the red staircase.

If Tom caught the edge of disapproval in the butler's tone, he ignored it. Conducting business this early at Downton was very unusual, especially as the earl and countess were not in residence having caught the early train from the village. Even after three years Carson chafed at having two masters. Tom couldn't completely blame the butler. He too found the situation difficult at times. Robert and Matthew unwittingly played employees against the other. Such as right now where Tom had to be the bearer of news bound to make Matthew even more irritable than he'd been these past six weeks.

Tom knocked on Matthew's dressing room door. Matthew had been housebound ever since the injury. His blindness incapacitating any attempt at independence. It made dealing with his brother in law a dicey thing. Even Mary had to sometimes walk around on eggshells around him, fearing he'd bite her head off over some triviality.

"Come in."

Tom judged Matthew was in a fairly good mood. He opened the door.

Matthew sat at a desk near the window, striking keys on his Hammond Braille typewriter. His fractured ankle, now in an itchy and uncomfortable cast, was raised on the wheelchair leg rest at a height to help prevent swelling. Matthew kept his own counsel on the doctor's claim it would also reduce the pain as the cast, the chair, and the angle of the rest made him damned uncomfortable. His neck had to be cricked at an odd angle to write or type or telephone. His leg still throbbed despite claims to the contrary.

These had been among the worst six weeks of his life.

After the fall, Trevor and another employee lifted Matthew up and helped him into the Vauxhall used by Downton Hall for resident transportation and had driven Matthew into the Village to the hospital where he was examined and set with a splint until the swelling decreased around the joint. Dr. Clarkson diagnosed a lateral malleolus fracture of his fibula which he told Matthew was good in that it was not a weight-bearing bone. After the swelling went down and the ankle set in a plaster of Paris cast, it would normally heal in roughly six weeks to two months.

Here Clarkson's voice changed Matthew noticed. In what sounded like a tone he hoped was letting a patient down easy, he informed Matthew that due to the complication of his blindness and need of a cane to get around even in a bedroom, he could not use crutches and so recommended a wheelchair with raised rest for times when he was not lying in bed with his ankle elevated at the proper angle. He would need someone, most probably his valet, to learn how to use the wheelchair to help Matthew in and out any time he needed so as not to bear any weight on the ankle before it's almost completely healed. And even then, he'd need someone on either side of him holding him up while he tried to bear some weight on the ankle.

Matthew gritted his teeth at that memory. One slip and he's almost totally dependent upon others. He blamed himself entirely which only made things worse. He should have asked for a ride back to the Abbey while he met with the managers at the Hall as the ground was wet from recent rains. Instead he tried to walk back on the gravel path in a rush, having promised George they'd set up his new train set. And fell hard on the slick rocks, coming down at an incredibly painful angle.

Making everyone's life that much more complicated. Something he hated but he grudgingly accepted the rationality of the chair over crutches as he didn't want to make things worse. Lang got the basics down on the chair and Matthew was finally allowed to go back home.

Things settled down into a routine. Even if it was confining and uncomfortable.

Matthew looked in Tom's general direction. "Mary's in the children's room. Elinor and Sebastian were squabbling so she thought she might bring some order to the nursery. I thought I could get this letter done and sent by courier back to Harvill and Carter."

After being unable to just lie in bed in utter boredom, he finally settled on using his dressing room as a kind of temporary command post as he and Lang began to call it. When he and Mary had first selected rooms for their marriage suite, this space had been a guest bedroom already furnished with a double bed and a couple of comfortable leather armchairs. The builders had opened a doorway between the room next door, which they used as their shared bedroom and made this one Matthew's dressing chamber.

He slept fitfully with the ankle and, needing to be close to the water closet during the night without waking his wife, Matthew slept in the bed in the dressing room. Mary would either share with him or, when his tossing and turning got too much, she'd kiss him on the cheek and return to their larger bedchamber alone. He never wanted her help with his lavatory needs, using her pregnancy as an excuse to say, "you don't need to overburden yourself by helping me into the chair." Instead he'd ring for Lang and begin to apologize profusely to the valet for getting him up at such an ungodly hour to help him to the toilet.

Then once up usually just after the crack of dawn, he and Lang finished his morning ablutions and got dressed and down to work. The desk had been moved from the sitting room to the dressing chamber for the time being so he could continue working quietly while not disturbing Mary's slumber next door. Usually at mid-morning or so he'd make a round of telephone calls to the estate office, Downton Hall, or his law chambers to catch up on anything he'd miss. He had the line installed in the dressing room at his own expense to make things even easier on Lang.

Tom, therefore, wasn't surprised to find him already at work. Used to rising early when he was in service, Tom wasn't that put out. And besides the new baby was colicky and he helped Sybil with little Neve.

"I need to know the status of the hundred acres near the south field. Can I give the go ahead to start plowing it under?"

"I thought Robert was supposed to handle the bank transaction?" Matthew pressed two fingers hard against each side of the bridge of his nose. "He told me he'd call the managing director of Deacon and Ely's to get the funds to finish bringing in the parcel of land we want to purchase from Chase. If he doesn't do it now, I'm sure that Fields will snatch it."

"I can't do anything until either you or he acts."

"I know that Tom," Matthew snapped. "Can't you push him while I'm laid up?"

Tom took a deep breath and then reluctantly disclosed, "Robert's gone to London with Cora for an art exhibition at the Royal Academy. He's left everything in your charge."

Even in his current blindness Matthew managed to roll his eyes in disgust. Robert could very easily have gone to the bank, signed the documents, and had it done. Matthew would have to send for a bank messenger and waste time in getting everything settled. He slammed his hand against the arm rest of the wheelchair. "Damn him Tom. He knows I wanted this finished quickly."

Tom tried to restore his friend's good humour. "Hey, hey don't blame the messenger. You know Robert as well as I."

Matthew was appropriately chastened. "I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault." He sighed. "I will do it myself." He felt forward carefully with his fingers, knowing the telephone was on the right side of the desk. And then realized he didn't know the time.

He pulled out his Braille watch and flipped open the glass cover to read the time with his fingers. His shoulders sagged. "Is it really only 8:45?"

Tom laughed. "Not everyone's the early bird you are."

"I can't sleep so I tend to rouse Lang who's awake as well to get on with things." Matthew knew his valet's neurasthenia was such that he was a fidgety sleeper who had recurrent nightmares. They seldom spoke of it, but Matthew realized Lang got on with his job in order to take his mind off the war.

It was little consolation for all the extra work Matthew's injury has put on his valet. Lang did everything without complaint and Matthew frankly wasn't sure what he'd have done without him.

In trying to make a move towards the telephone Matthew strained his back stretching across the desk which slightly unbalanced him in the chair. He slid a bit, the ankle lifted up in the chair rest and he let out a yelp of pain.

"Let me help…" Tom gently put the ankle back in the proper position as Matthew gripped the arm rests and lifted himself up in the chair, wincing slightly.

"Thank you." Matthew said through gritted teeth.

Tom stood back quickly, knowing full well Matthew hated needing help. He wouldn't get too perturbed by him though, as Tom admitted to himself. He'd also be hell to live with if he had to ask for assistance with every little thing.

Tom moved the handset closer to Matthew's fingertips.

Matthew heard the metal bottom of the telephone carriage clink down on the desk. "Thank you again. I will make the call to Deacon and Ely when they open. It will take about an hour for them to send a courier over with the documents for me to sign and another for him to take them back so don't expect to move on giving the plowing orders until later today or tomorrow really at the earliest. We need to settle things with Chase completely."

"I'll leave you to it then," Tom said. "Sybil and the children say hello by the way."

Matthew knew that Sybil also had a hard time recently after the birth of their second child. Trying to relieve some of his own tetchiness he joked, "tell her I'm terribly jealous that her confinement is over and she can get about."

Tom managed a laugh. "I will indeed."

"How is Neve?"

"A bit colicky but red cheeked and adorable. She's already put on some weight."

"Excellent."

"I'll get along to the office now," Tom said. "Give me a ring later when Edith and Bertie arrive. Sybil will be over for tea but we're keeping Neve at home with Catriona." One of Tom's sisters now lived with them for the time being, helping Sybil with the children while she waited for her intended to arrive back from America where he was setting up a job and household for them in Boston.

"Bertie called last evening to say they'd all arrive by teatime. Jack and George haven't seen each other in awhile and Jack can't wait. We've not really seen much of their little one, Marie, recently. I know Elinor wants to spend lots of time with her cousin."

Matthew grunted and adjusted himself again in the chair. He grimaced but continued, "George is on pins and needles for everyone to arrive. He's itching to finally get the train set together. Lang will wheel me down the hallway to the playroom and with some help in and out of this thing I'll be able to sit on the floor with the leg extended. I told him we'd wait for everyone to arrive this afternoon."

"Sybbie is so excited about the Hornby set. I told her it wasn't the new electric one but it didn't matter. She's demanding to help set it up."

Matthew smiled. He knew Tom was not so secretly proud his daughter would most probably grow up to be some kind of engineer. She mucked about with everything when they walked together around the estate.

"I hope she won't be too disappointed. As much as we both might have wanted the Metropolitan set with its sleek new look, the 110-volt output seemed incredibly dangerous so, upon the advice of the toy emporium owner, we settled for the clockwork model with key wind instead."

"Will Mary and Elinor join in?"

"Doubtful. Mary's feeling a bit peaky I think but she won't let on with me." Now almost four months along in her fourth pregnancy Mary was over the worst of her morning sickness. "And Elinor won't have anything to with any toy that doesn't have four feet, hooves, and a mane. Mr. Pookie bear being the only exception."

"She's her mother's daughter all right." Tom said good-bye and closed the door behind him.

Matthew went back to work.

Once he connected to the bank through Carson's outside line downstairs, he made arrangements for a courier to bring the required documents to Downton by 11am.

Then, thrumming his fingertips on the telephone receiver, he picked it back up again and asked Carson to get him Mr. Harvill at the office in Ripon. After a brief but productive conversation he rang off with, "Thank you sir for understanding. You've been most kind in allowing me to be a part of your chambers."

He put the receiver carefully back in its cradle, satisfied with finally making a decision about his future.

That being done, he sat back and wait for his wife to join him for breakfast. When she left to settle the nursery room bickering, she said she'd tell Lang and Anna to bring the trays through to his dressing room.

Mary had been a saint and he needed to tell her just how much he appreciated her support. Especially as he knew full well she was biting her lip in putting up with his sulky behaviour.

He knew he was being impossible. He felt short tempered all the time. The gnawing irritation at being dependent on Lang was worsened by being terrified of losing his equilibrium and falling on top of his valet as he lifted him in and out of the wheelchair everywhere from the toilet to the bed. He couldn't even put his own trousers on without help. He couldn't take an independent bath because of the plaster cast and the fear of slipping.

The illusive fragility of his autonomy struck him constantly. It wasn't that he ever took it for granted. He was blind. He knew he would always need help with certain things. But he prided himself, along with so many others from St. Dunstan's, that they live the motto of the founder: _so far as it was practicable, they would make every attempt to do things for themselves. It was a handicap, not a calamity._

This dependency chafed. The infinite ennui of being stuck on his own in this one room made him want to scream the house down. Being blind he fought bouts of claustrophobia by getting outside, breathing fresh air, and walking decisively towards a goal. It was human nature he supposed that being reminded that many others suffered far worse didn't improve his mood but rather increased his irascibility. He knew he was lucky. He knew that many others suffered terrible disfigurements to the face that left survivors unable to eat or speak. Gas blindness and its respiratory infections, loss of limbs as well as sight. Wheelchair bound for life because of nerve damage to the brain or spinal cord.

Having a great deal of time to think, he vowed to make even more effort to help those in need while also acknowledging to himself that he would have to cut back on his many jobs and volunteer work. He had one handicap. He didn't need to make it worse for his family by burning the candle at both ends trying to do too much. To that end he made the telephone call to Harvill that morning.

Plus, he wanted to spend more time with George. Despite George retaining sight in his right eye he still had trouble adjusting to monocular vision. Mary reported that Florence said he bumped into doors and tripped over toys in the playroom and would tilt his head at very odd angles in order to see things no longer in his range of vision. Having no depth perception meant he had trouble catching a ball, reaching out to grasp utensils, or stepping down the stairs. Reading was a problem as he didn't see words even in the middle of the page as they were missed by his blind spot. The ophthalmologist had said it would take time but that because George was young, his brain would learn to adjust and he'd begin to judge distances and depths more accurately.

Lang came in with the breakfast trays and placed them on the table next to the window. "Thank you. Mary will pour and serve when she comes back from the nursery."

Just then a knock on the hallway door, and in came Mary, Elinor, and George.

"They wanted to say hello to Daddy," Mary announced even as both children made a beeline towards Matthew.

"Good morning Good morning!" they chanted in unison.

Matthew's mood immediately improved. He knew what George would want first. He reached out with his hand and, as was their routine, George put his head under his father's fingers so he could tousle it.

George beamed and giggled.

That beloved ritual over, Matthew turned his attention to his daughter.

Elinor, with Mary's help, reached up and kissed her father's cheek. "Hello Daddy."

"My angel," Matthew replied. "How's your morning been?"

He heard her quietly harrumph, then informed in her soft but clipped voice, "We had yummy scones and jam but Sebastian ate all of mine while I was helping Nanny Florence. I told him to mind his own food, but he just started crying."

"Now Elinor, we settled all of that," Mary's tone was motherly but no nonsense. "Sebastian is only three. He's still learning how to behave at the table."

George interjected, "when you were three you stamped your foot and had a tizzy every time you didn't get your way."

"Did not…" Elinor stamped her foot.

"Did too…" George glared.

Mary sighed. Just when she thought she had brought peace. She started to say something about calming down in front of their father when she noticed Matthew's soft smile as he listened to the children.

She let it go. The past few weeks had been horrid for him. The normality of sibling bickering took his mind off his own troubles and he had missed so much being immobile.

Matthew changed the subject to relieve the deadlock. "Are we ready for tea with Sybbie, Jack, and Marie? I thought we could put the train set together in the playroom afterward."

George swiftly came around. "Yes please! I've already unpacked the George the Fifth locomotive. He's really swell." He paused then tilting his head to see his mother he added quickly, "I was very careful. Nanny Florence helped me. She told me I had to keep all the 0-gauge track in the box along with the tender, passenger cars, railway station, signals, trees, and passengers."

Mary smiled to reassure George. "She told me you were very attentive."

Elinor went quiet. She thought mummy had said they'd go look at the horses that afternoon. She really didn't want to play with some old train set.

She tugged on her mother's dress.

Mary bent down so her daughter could whisper in her ear, "May we go see Sweetbriar and Pepper today?" The recent rains had kept her inside far too long.

"Of course, darling. We'll leave them to it upstairs. Do you have your wellies?"

She nodded solemnly. "They're in my wardrobe. I'll be sure to put them on."

"Good girl." Mary kissed her cheek.

Matthew heard the exchange and knew his supposition with Tom was correct. "How are your lessons coming along Elinor? Mummy says you've been riding the new pony around the livery yard." The Dartmoor pony had been Elinor's sixth birthday present. They had become inseparable since.

His daughter brightened at her father's interest. "Pepper is ever such a dear. I love him so much. Mummy's taught me how to brush and braid after we've ridden." Elinor relished her mother's complete attention when she gave her lessons. So many times the boys distracted her.

"Sounds marvelous."

Just then the door knocked. "Come in," Mary said.

Florence opened the door, holding Sebastian. "I have another here who wants mummy and daddy's attention before I take these two back for their lessons."

Their youngest scrabbled down and toddled over into Mary's arms. Though still having some difficulty in talking in complete sentences, Sebastian was a bright eyed three-year-old.

"He's too young to help," George announced. "All he'll do is throw my trains around."

As much as it was his inclination to indulge his eldest son, especially now with his monocular blindness Matthew knew peace in the playroom meant the children had to learn to get along. "I think Sebastian wants to play as much as you do. He's too young for the train set but we'll let him sit with us, shall we? Nanny Florence can hold onto him and make sure he doesn't get in the way."

George leaned his head against his father's arm. "I suppose so. Maybe he can hold the big whistle."

"That's very good of you." Matthew said. "Now off you go to see Miss Paige."

After they left, Mary settled down in the leather seat next to the window.

"How are you this morning my darling?" Matthew could finally give his undivided attention to his wife. "Any more queasiness?"

"Not so far today. With mama and papa away, I'm glad of that with so many guests this afternoon." With her parents gone Mary and Matthew would assume the duties of host and hostess.

"They've gone to London according to Tom."

"Yes. Mama wanted to see this exhibit at the Royal Academy. They'll only be gone a few days."

Matthew kept silent on how Robert had left Matthew in the lurch on the banking issue. Robert was Robert and there was no changing him.

After pouring them each a cup of coffee, Mary placed the plate of toast on the desk near to Matthew's hand.

"I knew Elinor would rather see the pony," Matthew smiled. "I gather George isn't that upset to have to give up his lessons altogether."

George's difficulties in judging distances and spatial relationships made riding a difficult and so they made the decision to desist his horsemanship lessons for the near future.

"He was never the most enthusiastic rider so I daresay he won't feel deprived," Mary said realistically. "But he does need fresh air."

George took after Matthew's bookish tendencies and would spend hours in the playroom or in Matthew's dressing room reading to his father to relieve some of the boredom of being cooped up.

"I had a talk with Joseph about that and he said to bring George around to the cricket pitch and he could start teaching him the basics. And it will help with his hand-eye coordination."

"That is a good idea. Miss Paige is very good teaching him to scan the pages of a book with his right eye, gazing back and forth and being more careful to pick up on any missed words. She says he's also missing numbers when he does his maths."

"It will all take time," Matthew heaved a sigh. "You are so strong Mary. My blindness, now George. And this stupid ankle…" He groaned in pain as he tried to shift so that his back didn't get so tight it seized up. "How do you put up with it all?"

She reached out and clasped his hand. "I've got my rewards…"

Matthew felt her hot breath on his cheek. He turned so they could kiss.

A deep, passionate kiss that barely sated their need for each other. "I can't wait for this to be over."

"Soon enough." The combination of Mary's early pregnancy sickness and Matthew's injury had meant they hadn't properly made love in weeks. "But then you'll be back to work in Ripon."

Matthew's mouth was caressing her right cheek. "Hmmm…" he reluctantly stopped. "About that. I telephoned Mr. Harvill. I've decided to cut back and he's agreed that I can come in locum when they are short handed but otherwise, I will take only the occasional will or property conveyance. I can't do everything. This ankle has proven that. Something has to give and it's more important to spend time here. George and the other children need me. You and Tom have done a marvelous job running the books on the estate, but as co-owner I should take more of an interest."

"I think that's most sensible." Mary replied, pleased to hear he'd finally come to this decision. She had always believed even when he was sighted Matthew had too many irons in the fire. "Maybe once you're recovered, we could return to Cornwall now that you have all this free time."

"Now that sounds marvelous."

Mary moved closer to make it easier for Matthew to nuzzle her neck.

The rest of they day could wait a while longer.

XX  
"Toot toot…" Tom made noises as he moved his legs to simulate the movement of a locomotive. Sebastian sat on his lap, clapping in time to the sounds.

Bertie and Jack sat nearby.

Sybbie carefully laid down the last of the O gauge track so that the oval was complete.

"Ready?" George asked.

"Yes." Sybbie stood back so he could put down the locomotive onto the track. "Where are the tenders?"

George tilted his head. "Over there."

Jack stood up and retrieved the two cars. He handed one to George who began to attach it to the George the Fifth locomotive and the other to Sybbie. The two children together attached all three cars.

"Have you given it a wind?" Matthew asked, sitting with his leg outstretched and leaning against the side of a chair for support. "Not too much?"

"Just enough…" And George let the engine go and it started chugging down the track. "There it goes!"

Sybbie clapped her hands. Jack started to follow the locomotive by skipping around the edges of the track.

George laid down on his stomach to give him the best view; his right eye even with the track as he watched the locomotive's wheels pull the cars behind it. Once he was satisfied the cars ran smoothly, he crawled over to sit next to his father.

"This is the best day ever," he declared.

And Matthew, despite the pain and the aggravations, had to most definitely agree.

XX

😊 _I like it when they're happy! Thank you for reading, favoriting, and reviewing. It makes my day the best day ever._


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